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diff --git a/28574.txt b/28574.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..70047a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/28574.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7226 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Connie Morgan in the Fur Country, by James B. Hendryx + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Connie Morgan in the Fur Country + +Author: James B. Hendryx + +Release Date: April 21, 2009 [EBook #28574] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONNIE MORGAN IN THE FUR COUNTRY *** + + + + +Produced by K Nordquist, Greg Bergquist and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +Transcriber's Note + +The punctuation and spelling from the original text have been faithfully +preserved. Only obvious typographical errors have been corrected. + + + + +Connie Morgan + +in the + +Fur Country + +[Illustration] + +_By_ James B. Hendryx + +. ILLUSTRATED . + + + _By James B. Hendryx_ + + The Promise + + The Gun Brand + + The Texan + + The Gold Girl + + Prairie Flowers + + Connie Morgan in Alaska + + Connie Morgan with the Mounted + + Connie Morgan in the Lumber Camps + + Connie Morgan in the Fur Country + +[Illustration: "For there, standing close beside the fire, his head and +huge shoulders thrust into the doorway, his eyes gleaming like live +coals, stood the great grey leader of the wolf pack." + +Drawn by Frank E. Schoonover] + + CONNIE MORGAN + IN THE + FUR COUNTRY + + + BY + JAMES B. HENDRYX + AUTHOR OF "CONNIE MORGAN IN ALASKA," ETC. + + + [Illustration] + + + _ILLUSTRATED_ + + + G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS + NEW YORK AND LONDON + The Knickerbocker Press + 1921 + + + + +Copyright, 1921 + +by + +James B. Hendryx + +Made in the United States of America + + +[Illustration] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I.--DOG, OR WOLF? 1 + + II.--'MERICAN JOE 17 + + III.--NERVE 32 + + IV.--BRASS 49 + + V.--THE PLAGUE FLAG IN THE SKY 76 + + VI.--AT THE END OF RENE'S TRAIL 95 + + VII.--AT FORT NORMAN 111 + + VIII.--BAIT--AND A BEAR 123 + + IX.--OUT ON THE TRAP LINE 138 + + X.--THE TRAIL OF THE _CARCAJO_ 149 + + XI.--THE CARIBOU HUNT 168 + + XII.--THE TRAIL IN THE SNOW 184 + + XIII.--AT THE CAMP OF THE _HOOCH_-RUNNERS 200 + + XIV.--THE PASSING OF BLACK MORAN 216 + + XV.--SETTING THE FOX TRAPS 238 + + XVI.--THE VOICE FROM THE HILL 254 + + XVII.--THE-LAKE-OF-THE-FOX-THAT-YELLS 269 + + XVIII.--THE MAN IN THE CAVE 290 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + PAGE + + "FOR THERE, STANDING CLOSE BESIDE THE FIRE, + HIS HEAD AND HUGE SHOULDERS THRUST + INTO THE DOORWAY, HIS EYES GLEAMING + LIKE LIVE COALS, STOOD THE GREAT GREY + LEADER OF THE WOLF PACK" _Frontispiece_ + + "IN THE WHIRLING BLIZZARD, WITHOUT PROTECTION + OF TIMBER, ONE PLACE WAS AS GOOD + AS ANOTHER TO CAMP, AND WHILE THE INDIAN + BUSIED HIMSELF WITH THE DOGS, CONNIE + PROCEEDED TO DIG A TRENCH IN THE SNOW" 54 + + "THE THIRD DAY DAWNED COLD AND CLEAR, + AND DAYLIGHT FOUND THE OUTFIT ON THE + MOVE" 70 + + "IT WAS A TERRIBLE THING TO LOOK UPON TO + THOSE TWO WHO KNEW ITS SIGNIFICANCE--THAT + FLAG GLOWING LIKE A SPLOTCH OF + BLOOD THERE IN THE BRAZEN SKY" 80 + + "THE SNARE WAS SET ONLY A FOOT OR TWO + FROM THE STUFFED RABBIT SKIN AND + STICKS AND BRUSH SO ARRANGED THAT IN + ORDER TO REACH THE RABBIT THE LYNX + MUST LEAP STRAIGHT INTO THE SNARE" 130 + + "'MERICAN JOE CLIMBED THE TREE AND A FEW + MINUTES LATER CONNIE HEARD THE BLOWS + OF HIS BELT AX AS HE HACKED AT THE + LIMB THAT HELD THE CLOG" 156 + + "AS DARKNESS SETTLED OVER THE NORTH + COUNTRY, A LITTLE FIRE TWINKLED IN THE + BUSH, AND THE ODOUR OF SIZZLING BACON + AND FRYING LIVER PERMEATED THE COZY + CAMP" 182 + + "AS HE STEPPED THROUGH THE DOORWAY HE + WAS SEIZED VIOLENTLY FROM BEHIND" 218 + + + + +Connie Morgan in the Fur Country + + + + +CHAPTER I + +DOG, OR WOLF? + + +In the little cabin on Ten Bow Waseche Bill laid his week-old newspaper +aside, knocked the ashes from his pipe against the edge of the woodbox, +and listened to the roar of the wind. After a few moments he rose and +opened the door, only to slam it immediately as an icy blast, freighted +with a million whirling flakes of snow, swept the room. Resuming his +seat, he proceeded very deliberately to refill his pipe. This +accomplished to his satisfaction, he lighted it, crammed some wood into +the little air-tight stove, and tilted his chair back against the log +wall. + +"Well, son, what is it?" he asked, after a few moments of silence +during which he had watched his young partner, Connie Morgan, draw rag +after rag through the barrel of his rifle. + +"What's what?" asked the boy, without looking up. + +"What's on yo' mind? The last five patches yo've drug through that gun +was as clean when they come out as when they went in. Yo' ain't cleanin' +no rifle--yo' studyin' 'bout somethin'." + +Connie rested the rifle upon his knees and smiled across the little +oilcloth-covered table: "Looks like winter has come in earnest," he +said. "Listen to her trying to tear the roof off. I've been wishing it +would snow for a week." + +"Snow fer a week?" + +"No. Wishing for a week." + +"Well, now it's come, what yo' goin' to do with it?" + +"I'm going out and get that Big Ruff." + +"Big Ruff! Yo' mean kill him?" + +Connie shook his head: "No. I'm going to catch him. I want him." + +Waseche laughed: "What in thunder do yo' want of him, even pervidin' +he's a dog, which the chances is he ain't nothin' but a wolf. An' yo' +don't even know they's any such brute rompin' the hills, nohow. Stories +gits goin' that-a-way. Someone, mebbe, seen a dog or a wolf runnin' the +ridge of Spur Mountain late in the evenin' so he looked 'bout half agin +the size he was, an' they come along an' told it. Then someone else sees +him, er another one, an' he recollects that he heard tell of a monstr'us +big wolf er dog, he cain't recollect which, so he splits the difference +an' makes him half-dog an' half-wolf, an' he adds a big ruff onto his +neck fer good measure, an' tells it 'round. After that yo' kin bet that +every tin-horn that gits within twenty mile of Spur Mountain will see +him, an' each time he gits bigger, an' his ruff gits bigger. It's like a +stampede. Yo' let someone pan out mebbe half a dozen ounces of dust on +some crick an' by the time the news has spread a hundred mile, he's took +out a fortune, an' it's in chunks as big as a pigeon's aig--they ain't +nary one of them ever saw a pigeon's aig--but that's always what them +chunks is as big as--an' directly the whole crick is staked an' a lot of +men goes broke, an' some is killed, an' chances is, the only ones that +comes out ahead is the ones that's staked an' sold out." + +"But there are real wolf-dogs--I've seen plenty of 'em, and so have you. +And there are real strikes--look at Ten Bow!" + +"Yeh, look at it--but I made that strike myself. The boys down to +Hesitation know'd that if I said they was colour heah it was heah. They +didn't come a kihootin' up heah on the say-so of no tin-horn." + +"Yes, and there's a big wolf-dog been over on Spur Mountain for a week, +too. I didn't pay any attention when I first heard it. But, Dutch Henry +saw him yesterday, and today when Black Jack Demeree came up with the +mail he saw him, too." + +Waseche appeared interested: "An' did they say he was as big as a cabin +an' a ruff on him like the mainsail of a whaler?" + +"No, but they said he was the biggest dog they ever saw, and he has got +the big ruff, all right--and he was running with two or three wolves, +and he was bigger than any of them." + +"Well, if Dutch Henry an' Black Jack seen him," agreed Waseche with +conviction, "he's there. But, what in time do yo' want of him? If he +was runnin' with wolves he's buildin' him up a pack. He's a bad actor. +You take them renegade dogs, an' they're worse than wolves an' worse +than dogs--an' they're smarter'n most folks." + +"That's why I want him. I want to make a leader out of him." + +"You can't catch him--an' if you could, you couldn't handle him." + +"I'll tell you more about that after I've had a try at him," grinned the +boy. + +"Who's going along?" + +"No one. I don't want to divide him up with anyone, and anyone I could +hire wouldn't be worth taking along." + +"He'll eat you up." + +"I hope he tries it! If he ever gets that close to me--he's mine!" + +"Or yo'll be his'n," drawled Waseche Bill. "Howeveh, if I was bettin' +I'd take yo' end of it, at that." + +Connie rose, laid the rifle upon the table, and began to overhaul his +gear. Waseche watched him for a few moments, and blew a cloud of blue +smoke ceilingward: "Seems like yo' jest nach'lly cain't set by an' take +things easy," he said; "heah's yo', with mo' money than yo' kin eveh +spend, gittin' ready to hike out an' live like a Siwash in the bush when +yo' c'd go outside fer the winteh, an' live in some swell _hotel_ an' +nothin' to do but r'ar back in one of them big leatheh chairs with yo' +feet in the window an' watch the folks go by." + +Connie flashed him a grin: "You've got as much as I have--and I don't +notice you sitting around any swell hotels watching the folks go by." + +Waseche's eyes twinkled: and he glanced affectionately at the boy: "No, +son. This heah suits me betteh. But, yo' ain't even satisfied to stay +heah in the cabin. When my laig went bad on me an' I had to go outside, +you hit out an' put in the time with the Mounted, then last winteh, +'stead of taking it easy, you hit out fo' Minnesota an' handed that +timbeh thievin' bunch what was comin' to 'em." + +"Well, it paid, didn't it?" + +"Sho' it paid--an' the work with the Mounted paid--not in money, but in +what yo' learnt. But you don't neveh take things easy. Yo' pa was like +that. I reckon it's bred in the bone." + +Connie nodded: "Yes, and this winter I've got a trip planned out that +will make all the others look piking. I'm going over and have a look at +the Coppermine River country--over beyond the Mackenzie." + +Waseche Bill stared at the boy in astonishment: "Beyond the Mackenzie!" +he exclaimed, then his voice dropped into a tone softly sarcastic. "Yo' +ought to have a right pleasant trip. It ain't oveh a thousan' miles oah +so, an' only about fifteen er twenty mountain ranges to cross. The trail +ought to be right nice an' smooth an' plain marked. An' when yo' git +theah yo' sho' ought to enjoy yo'self. I caint' think of no place in the +world a man had ought to keep away from worse than right theah. Why, +son, they tell me that beyond the Mackenzie they ain't _nothin'_!" + +"There's gold--and copper," defended the boy. + +"Did Dutch Henry an' Black Jack Demeree tell yo' that, too?" + +Connie laughed: "No, I read about it in a book." + +Waseche snorted contemptuously, "Read it in a book! Look a heah, son, +it don't stand to reason that if anyone know'd they was gold an' coppeh +up theah they'd be foolin' away theah time writin' books about it, does +it? No suh, they'd be be right up amongst it scoopin' it out of the +gravel, that's wheah they'd be! Books is redic'lus." + +"But the man that wrote the book didn't know where the gold is----" + +"You bet he didn't! That's the way with these heah fellows that writes +books. They don't know enough about gold to make 'em a livin' diggin' +it--so they write a book about it. They's mo' ways than one to make a +livin' out of gold--like sellin' fake claims, an' writin' books." + +"I'm going to roll in, now, because I want to get an early start. It's +that book up there on the shelf with the green cover. You read it, and +when I come back with Big Ruff, we'll talk it over." + +Again Waseche snorted contemptuously, but a few minutes later as he lay +snuggled between his blankets, Connie smiled to himself to see his big +partner take the book from the shelf, light his pipe, and after settling +himself comfortably in his chair, gingerly turn its pages. + +Spur Mountain is not really a mountain at all. It is a long sparsely +timbered ridge only about seven hundred feet in height that protrudes +into the valley of the Ten Bow, for all the world like a giant spur. The +creek doubles sharply around the point of the spur which slants upward +to a deep notch or pass in the range that separates the Ten Bow from the +valley of the Tanana. + +It was past noon when Connie Morgan swung his dogs from the creek-bed +and headed back along the base of the spur toward the main range. He had +covered the fifteen miles slowly, being forced almost constantly to +break trail ahead of the dogs through the new-fallen snow. + +He turned into a patch of timber that slanted obliquely upward to the +crest of the ridge, and working his outfit halfway to the top, pitched +his tent on a narrow ledge or shoulder, protected from every direction +by the ridge itself, and by the thick spruce timber. The early darkness +had settled when he finished making camp and as he ate his supper he +watched the stars appear one by one in the heavens. After replenishing +his fire, he removed his _mukluks_ and mackinaw, and slipped into his +sleeping bag. + +Two hours later he opened his eyes and listened. From beyond the +ridge--far down the valley of the Ten Bow, floated the long-drawn howl +of a wolf. A moment of silence followed, and from across the valley +sounded an answering call. Outside the little tent a dog whined softly. +The boy smiled as his eyes rested for a moment upon the glowing coals of +his fire. "What anybody wants to live in a city for when they can lie +out in the timber and listen to that, is more than I know--I love it!" +The next moment he was sitting bolt upright, his hands fighting his +sleeping bag, as the hair of his scalp seemed to rise like the quills of +an enraged porcupine, and a peculiar tickly chill ran down his spine. +The silence of the night was shattered by a sound so terrible that his +blood seemed to chill at the horror of it. It was a wolf cry--but unlike +the cry of any wolf he had ever heard. There was a swift rush of dark +bodies and Connie's four dogs dived into the tent, knocking him over in +their haste, their feet scratching up a shower of snow which caused the +glowing coals of the little fire to sizzle and smoke. The cry of the +wolves had floated--but this new cry seemed to hurl itself through the +night--a terrifying crescendo of noise that sounded at once a challenge +and wail. For a full minute after the sound ceased the boy sat tense +and motionless, staring wide-eyed beyond the fire, while behind him, in +the farthest corner of the tent the _malamutes_ huddled and whined. Then +he shook himself and laughed. "Some howl!" he muttered, "I bet they +heard that in Ten Bow. That's the Big Ruff, all right--and he ain't far +away." + +Hastily wriggling from his sleeping bag the boy drew on his _mukluks_ +and mackinaw and stepped from the tent. Overhead the stars glittered +brilliantly, and he noted with satisfaction that objects were visible at +a distance of several hundred yards against the background of new-fallen +snow. Drawing a heavy parka over his mackinaw, he fastened on his +snowshoes, caught up his rifle, and headed upward for the crest of the +ridge. "Maybe I can get a look at him anyway," he thought. "He'll gather +his wolves and the chances are that sometime before morning they'll run +the ridge." + +A half-hour later the boy slipped into a tangle of brush that marked the +upper end of his patch of timber. The bare summit of the ridge stretched +away in the half-light to merge in a mysterious blur with the +indistinct valley of the Ten Bow. The wind was blowing gently from the +ridge and the boy figured that if the wolf pack followed the summit as +he hoped, they must pass within twenty yards of him. "If it don't go and +cloud up before they get here I can see 'em plain as day," he thought, +as he settled himself comfortably for his long wait. An hour passed and +the boy was thankful he had thought to bring his parka. Mushing a hard +trail, a man can dispense with his parka at twenty degrees below zero, +but sitting still, even at zero, the heavy moosehide garment is +indispensable. For another hour Connie divided his attention between +watching the fantastic changes of pale aurora and scanning the distant +reach of the ridge. He shifted his weight to his other hip to stretch a +cramped leg; and suddenly became motionless as a stone. Far down the +ridge his trained eye had caught a blur of motion. His fists clenched in +anticipation as he stared into the dim distance. Yes, there it was +again--something moving, like a swift shadow along the bald surface of +the snow. Again the silent shadow shape vanished and again it +appeared--nearer, now--near enough so that the boy could distinguish +not one, but many shapes. In fascination he watched that silent run of +the wolf pack. Nearer they swept, running easily and swiftly along the +wind-swept ridge. Instinctively Connie reached for his rifle but +withdrew his arm before his hand touched the weapon. + +There were ten or twelve wolves in all, but his attention was riveted +upon the leader. Never in his life had he seen such an animal. In the +starlight his coat gleamed like molten silver in contrast with the dark +tawny coats of the pack that ran at his heels. They reached a point +nearly opposite to the boy's hiding place, and distant not more than +fifty yards, when suddenly the huge leader halted in his tracks. So +sudden was his action that the wolves running behind him were unable to +stop until they had carried six or eight yards beyond. One or two +jostled the leader in passing and were rewarded with swift, silent +slashes of his great jaws. Luckily for themselves, the culprits escaped +death by inches, and leaping swiftly aside, mingled with their +companions, while the great grey leader stood squarely upon his feet +sniffing the air. + +Connie's heart raced wildly as he stared at the magnificent animal. It +seemed incredible that the brute had caught his scent against the wind, +and yet, if not, why had he halted so suddenly? And why did he stand +there sniffing the air? The wolves settled upon their haunches with +tongues a-loll and eyed their leader, or moved nervously back and forth +in the background sniffing inquisitively. During this interval the boy +took in every detail of the great brute he had set out to capture. More +conspicuous even than his great size was the enormous ruff of long hair +that covered the animal's neck and shoulders--a feature that accentuated +immeasurably the ferocious appearance of the pointed wolfish muzzle and +gleaming eyes. Every detail of coat, of muzzle, of eyes, of ears, or of +legs bespoke the wolf breed--but there were other details--and the heart +of the boy leaped as he noted them. The deep, massive chest, the +peculiar poise of the head, and the over-curl of the huge brush of the +tail showed unmistakably the breed of the dog. "I wonder what his heart +is?" thought Connie. "Is it wolf, or dog, or part wolf and a part dog?" +As these thoughts flashed through his mind the boy saw the great grey +shape turn abruptly and trot toward the opposite side of the ridge at a +right angle to his former course. The wolves followed at a respectful +distance and as they disappeared over the crest Connie wriggled from his +place of concealment and crawling to the top, peered down the slope. + +The wolves had vanished completely. Nothing was in sight except the long +white sweep of snow, with here and there a black patch of bushes and +scrub. He was about to return to his camp when, from one of the patches +of scrub burst a scattering of tawny shapes. Singly, and in groups of +two or three, crowding each other in their mad haste, they fled into the +open and ranging themselves in a semicircle, waited expectantly. +Presently another wolf emerged from the thicket, dragging himself on his +belly, ploughing the snow. As Connie watched curiously he noticed that +the wide, flat trail left by the slowly crawling wolf showed broad, dark +streaks and blotches. The waiting wolves knew the meaning of that +darkened trail and the next moment they were upon him. Connie shifted +his position for a better view of this midnight tragedy of the wild, +when his foot caught under a root concealed by the snow and he pitched +heavily forward. To save himself he grasped the dead branch of a stunted +tree. The branch snapped with a report that rang through the silence of +the night like an explosion and the boy pitched headforemost into the +snow. The great grey leader shot from the scrub, and with the pack at +his heels disappeared in the thicker timber at the base of the ridge. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +'MERICAN JOE + + +When Connie regained his feet Spur Mountain was silent as the tomb, and +for several moments he stood motionless gazing at the tawny shape that +lay still at the end of the stained trail, and at the patch of scrub +from which the shape had emerged. What was in that dark patch of brush? +Why had the wolves burst from it in terror? Why had the great leader +stayed until the snapping of the limb had frightened him away? And what +had happened to the wolf that lay dead in the snow? Slowly the boy +returned to his hiding place, picked up his rifle, and descended the +slope toward the patch of scrub. He stooped to examine the body of the +wolf. As he rolled it over his thoughts leaped to the great grey leader. +"Maybe his heart's all wolf," he muttered thoughtfully, as he stared at +the long slash that extended from the bottom of the flank upward almost +to the backbone--a slash as clean as if executed with a sharp knife, +and through which the animal's entrails had protruded and his life blood +had gushed to discolour the snow. "What did he do it for?" wondered +Connie as he turned from the carcass and proceeded cautiously into the +scrub. + +Ten yards in he stumbled over a snow-covered object. It was a sledge of +curious design. "That's no Alaska sled," he muttered, as he stared about +him, his eyes seeking to pierce the darker gloom of the scrub. A few +feet from him was a curious white mound. Before the mound were many wolf +tracks, and there it was that the blotched trail began. Moving +cautiously, the boy examined the irregular snow-covered mound. At the +point where the wolf tracks converged he noticed a small triangular +patch of darkness close to the ground. Stooping he examined it closely +and found to his surprise that it was the opening of a shelter tent or +wikiup. Dropping upon his hands and knees he peered inside. In the +darkness he could make out nothing. Throwing off his mittens, he lighted +a match, and as the tiny flame threw its feeble light upon the interior +he made out at the farther side a gruesome looking mound of blankets. +The match burned his finger tips and the miserable shelter was once more +plunged in blackness. Involuntarily Connie shuddered. His first +inclination was to leave that place--to return to his camp and harness +his dogs and hit the back trail for Ten Bow--then, tomorrow--Even with +the thought his jaw stiffened: "If I do it'll be because I'm afraid," he +sneered. "What would my dad have done? What would Waseche do? Or Dan +McKeever? Or any of the boys? The very last thing in the world they +would do would be to run away! And I won't either. The first thing is to +find out who he is and how he comes to be lying dead way up here on Spur +Mountain." + +Methodically the boy kicked the snow back from the door of the low +shelter tent, and gathering some dry branches built a fire. Then he +crawled inside, and by the light of the crackling flames proceeded to +examine the interior. One glance told the story. A battered aluminum +kettle, a small frying pan, and a canvas bag which contained nothing but +a small handful of tea, and the blankets he was wrapped in, constituted +the man's whole outfit. There was no grub--no weapon of any kind with +which to procure grub. He laid a hand on the blanket to roll the man +toward the light--and started so violently that he sent the frying pan +rattling against the kettle. For, instead of the rigid corpse of solid +ice he had expected to find, the blanket yielded beneath the pressure of +his hand! Either the man was alive, or had died so recently that his +body had not had time to freeze! Recovering himself instantly, Connie +ran his hand beneath the blanket. Yes, he was alive--there was heat +there--not much--but enough body-warmth to show that he still lived. +Scooping up a kettle of snow the boy set it upon the fire and, as it +melted, without uncovering the man, he fell to beating him with his +fists, to stimulate the lagging circulation. Heating the frying pan he +thrust it into the canvas bag and slipped it under the blankets and went +on with his beating. When the water began to boil, he withdrew the bag +and threw the tea into the kettle. Then he removed the outer blanket and +succeeded in rolling the unconscious form nearer to the fire. When he +uncovered the face he saw that the man was an Indian--a young buck of +twenty-five or thirty, and he wondered the more at his plight. Removing +the kettle from the fire, he set it beside him and succeeded in propping +the Indian's head upon his knees. With a tin cup, he dipped some +scalding tea from the kettle and allowing it to cool a little, dropped a +small quantity between the man's lips. At the third dose, the Indian +shuddered slightly, his lips moved, and he swallowed feebly. The next +time he swallowed as much as a spoonful, and then, double that amount. +After that his recovery was rapid. Before the cup was half empty he had +opened his eyes and blinked foolishly into Connie's face. He gulped +eagerly at the hot liquid, but the boy would allow him only a mouthful +at a time. When the cup was empty Connie refilled it. The Indian's lips +moved. He seemed to be trying to speak. + +"Talk English?" encouraged the boy with a smile. + +The other nodded: "Yes--_kloshe wawa_--me spik good." + +"What's your name--_kahta mika nem_?" + +The Indian seemed delighted to find that the boy could speak the jargon. +He smiled: "_Nika nem_ 'Merican Joe." And having imparted the +information, plunged into a rabble of jargon that the boy was at his +wit's end to follow. + +He stopped him in the middle of it: "Look here, 'Merican Joe, you talk +English--she best to talk. You know all 'bout English?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, you talk it then. Listen--I've got a camp over across the ridge. +Plenty grub. I go get grub. You stay here. Half an hour I come back. We +eat big." + +The Indian nodded vigorously, and as Connie turned toward the door he +recoiled, and involuntarily drew the knife from his belt. For there, +standing close beside the fire, his head and huge shoulders thrust into +the doorway, his eyes gleaming like live coals, stood the great grey +leader of the wolf pack! + +'Merican Joe struggled to his elbow and stretched his hand toward the +superb brute: "Ah, come Leloo! _Nika skookum tkope leloo!_" (My big +white wolf). With a bound the great animal was at the Indian's side, +nuzzling, rooting at him, licking his hands and face with his long red +tongue. Connie sat fascinated at the sight, as the Indian tugged +playfully at the pointed ears and buried his hand in the long +shimmering hair of the enormous ruff. Then the great brute settled down +close against the blanket and, raising his head, eyed Connie +indifferently, and as if to emphasize his indifference he opened his +huge jaws in a prodigious yawn--a yawn that exposed the interior of his +cavernous mouth with its wealth of gleaming fangs. + +The Indian thumped the brute on the ribs and pointed to the boy. +"_Skookum tillicum._" Leloo rose, stalked to the boy, deliberately +sniffed him over from top to toe, and resumed his place. + +"Is he yours?" asked Connie eagerly. "Where did you get him? Have you +got any more of 'em?" + +'Merican Joe laughed: "No--no more! No more lak heem een de worl'. Leloo +you frien', now. You com' een de daytam--een de night--Leloo no hurt." + +"I hope you're right," laughed the boy, "I'm going after that grub now." +And throwing some more wood on the fire, he slipped from the scrub. As +he did so, there was a scattering of tawny shapes, and where the carcass +of the dead wolf had been, there were only gnawed fragments of bones. + +When he returned Leloo met him at the edge of the scrub, eyed him for a +moment, and turning deliberately, led the way to the shelter tent. + +Connie viewed 'Merican Joe's attack on the food with alarm. In vain he +cautioned the Indian to go slow--to eat lightly at first--but his only +answer was a grin, and a renewed attack on the grub. The boy had brought +with him from the camp, three cans of baked beans, a bag of pilot bread, +and several pounds of pemmican, and not until the last vestige of food +was consumed, did 'Merican Joe even pause. Then he licked his fingers +and asked for more. Connie told him that in the morning they would break +camp and hit for Ten Bow. Also, that when they crossed the ridge he +could have all the grub he wanted, and with that the Indian had to +content himself. While 'Merican Joe ate the boy cooked up some fish for +Leloo, who accepted it from his hand and then settled himself beside him +upon the blanket. + +"Where did you come from? And where are you are going? And how did you +come to be out of grub?" asked Connie, when 'Merican Joe had lighted a +villainous looking black pipe. + +"Me--I'm com' far," he pointed toward the east. "I'm goin' to +Kuskokwim. A'm liv' on Kuskokwim--be'n gon' t'ree year. I'm los' my +outfit w'en de ice brek on Charley River, 'bout ten day 'go." + +"And you kept on for the Kuskokwim without any grub, and with no rifle!" + +"Yes--I'm lucky I'm hav' my blankets an' kettle on de front of de +sled--de ice no ketch." + +"But where did you get the dog--or wolf--or whatever Leloo is?" + +"I'm git heem ver' far--" again he paused and pointed to the east. + +"Beyond the big mountains?" + +"Yes." + +"Beyond the big river--the Mackenzie?" + +"Yes. I'm desert from de whaler wan year 'go. I com' on de--w'at you +call Innuit. I liv' wit dem long tam. All tam snow. All tam ice. All tam +col'. 'Cross de big water--de sea--" he pointed north. "Cross on ice. +Com' on de lan'--beeg lan', all rock, an' snow an' ice. We hunt de musk +ox. T'ree, four day we mush nort'. _Spose_ bye-m-bye we fin' ol' +_igloo_. Woof! Out jomp de beeg white wolf! Mor' bigger as any wolf I +ever seen. I take my rifle an' shoot heem, an' w'en de shot mak' de +beeg noise, out com' anudder wan. She aint' so beeg--an' she ain' white +lak de beeg wolf. She ron an' smell de dead wolf. She look on us. She +look on our sled dogs. She com' close. Den she run off agin. An' she +mak' all de tam de leetle whine. She ain' no wolf--she dog! Bye-m-bye +she ron back in _igloo_. Ol' Sen-nick him say dat bad medicine--but me, +I ain' care 'bout de Innuit medicine, an' I fol' de dog. I start to +crawl een de _igloo_ an' dat dog she growl lak she gon eat me oop. I +com' back an' mak' de snare an' pull her out, an' I gon' on een, an' I +fin' wan leetle pup. He ees de gran pup. Him look lak de beeg white wolf +an' I ketch um. Een de snow w'ere de roof cave een sticks out som' +seal-skin _mukluks_. Lays a dead man dere. I tak hol' an' try to pull um +out but she too mooch froze. So I quit try an' lef' heem dere." + +"Was it a white man?" cried Connie. + +'Merican Joe shook his head: "I ain' know--I can't pull heem out. Dat +good plac' to lef' heem anyhow. He frooze lak' de iron. I hont roun' an' +he ain' lef' no grub. Him starve an' freeze, an' hees dogs is all dead +but wan, an' she mate oop wit' de beeg white wolf. I giv' ol' Sen-nick +de dog an' I kep' de pup. See, Leloo ees de pup. Mos' two year ol'--an' +de bes' sled dog een all de worl'!" + +As Connie watched 'Merican Joe refill his pipe he thought how near +history had come to repeating itself. The boy studied Leloo as he lay +quiet upon the edge of the blanket. He had heard of the great white +wolves that inhabit the drear lone lands that lie beyond the arctic +coast--larger even than the grey caribou wolves of the barren lands. He +knew, now, that these stories were true. + +"You called Leloo a dog," he said, "but he's only half dog, and sometime +he may turn wolf." + +'Merican Joe shrugged: and eyed the great wolf-dog sombrely: "No, him +ain' never turn wolf--Leloo. Him half-wolf--half-dog, but de wolf an' de +dog ain' separat', lak de front legs, an' de hin' legs. De wolf an' de +dog is mix', lak de color een de hair. You savvy? Leloo ain' never all +wolf--an' he ain' never all dog. All de tam' he wolf an' dog mix'." + +Connie nodded eagerly. "I see!" he answered, and his thoughts flew to +the great brute he had seen only a few hours before running at the head +of the wolf pack. No hint of the dog in that long-drawn wolf-howl that +had brought him tensely erect in his tent and started the hair roots to +prickling along his scalp, and no hint of the dog in the silent slashes +with which he had resented the crowding of the pack. And yet a few +moments later he had defended his helpless master from that same wolf +pack--and in defending him with the devotion of the dog, he had ripped +with the peculiar flank-slash that is the death thrust of the wolf. +Later, in the tent, he had fawned dog-like upon his master--but, +wolf-like, the fawning had been soundless. + +"You know Leloo well," he said. + +'Merican Joe smiled: "I raised heem from de pup. I learn heem to pull. +He ees de gran' leader. I train heem to hont de caribou--de moose--de +deer. I show you som' tam. He kin fight--kill any dog--any wolf. He ain' +never git tire. He work all day lak de dog--an' all night mebbe-so he +ron wit' de wolf-pack." + +"You say you've been over east of the Mackenzie; is there gold over +there?" + +"I ain' see no gold." + +"I'm going over there." + +"W'en you go?" + +"Just as soon as I can get an outfit together." + +"Me--I'm goin' 'long." + +"Going along! Will you go?" + +'Merican Joe nodded: "You _skookum tillicum_. 'Merican Joe, she +dead--she starve--she froze--you com' 'long, mak' de fire--give de +grub--I ain' dead no mor'. I go 'long." + +"Do you think there's a good chance to prospect over there? What's the +formation?" + +"I ain' know mooch 'bout dat, w'at you call, fo'mation. Plent' +riv--plent' crick. Mebbe-so plent' gol'--I ain' know. But, on de barrens +is Injuns. W'en I com' way from de Innuit, I fin' um. Dey got plent' +fur. Eef you got nuff stake for tradin' outfit you mak' de beeg +money--you ain' care eef de gol' aint' dere." + +"You meaning trading with the Indians--free trading?" + +"Yes--de free traders skin 'em--dey cheat 'em--an' sell de hooch----" + +"But--the Hudson's Bay Company! How about them?" + +"De H.B.C. all right--but dey ain' go out after de Injun. Dey got de +reg'lar post. De Injun got to mush mebbe-so mor' as hondre mile--two +hondre. _Spose_ de free traders ketch um firs'. De Injun never git to de +post. You got nuff for de stake?" + +Connie laughed: "Yes, I've got enough for the stake, all right. But I'm +not so keen for the trading outfit. We can take along some traps, +though, and if there isn't any gold--we'll take out some fur. And, +you'll sure go with me? When can you start?" + +The Indian glanced out of the low door. "It daylight--le's go." + +"But, how about the Kuskokwim?" + +'Merican Joe shrugged. "Kuskokwim kin wait. She ain' no good. Me--I'm +stay 'long wit' you. You pay me wages w'at you want. I good man--me. You +wait--I show you. You good man, too. I seen plent' good man--plent' bad +man--I know--me." + +The Indian reached out his hand, and Connie shook it--and thus was the +bargain struck. + +"Will you sell Leloo?" asked the boy. + +The Indian shook his head: "No!" + +"Five hundred dollars?" + +"No! Fi' hondre dolla--fi't'ousan' dolla--no!" The Indian crawled out +the door followed by Connie and Leloo. Going to the sled, 'Merican Joe +picked up a loop of _babiche_ line and threw it about Leloo's neck. He +handed the end of the line to Connie. "Leloo heem you dog," he said. + +"What!" cried the boy. + +"Heem b'long you--I giv' heem----" + +"No! No! Let me buy him." + +The Indian drew himself erect: "I ain' sell Leloo. You giv' me my +life--I giv' you Leloo. Me--'Merican Joe good man. You good man. Wan +good man wit' anodder. It ees frien's." + +So Connie Morgan took the line from the hand of 'Merican Joe and as his +eyes rested upon the superb lines of the great silver brute, his heart +thrilled with the knowledge that he was the possessor of the greatest +wolf-dog in all the North. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +NERVE + + +On the morning after Connie Morgan had hit the trail for the avowed +purpose of capturing the huge wolf-dog that had been reported on Spur +Mountain, his big partner, Waseche Bill, lighted his pipe and gazed +thoughtfully through the window of the little log office which was +situated on the bank of Ten Bow Creek, overlooking the workings. His +eyes strayed from the intricate system of pipes and flumes to the cloud +of white vapour that rose from the shaft house where the never-tiring +steam-point drills forced their way slowly down, down, down into the +eternal frost. + +"Jest three years ago since me and the kid staked this valley," he +mused. "An' now we're rich--an' I'm an 'office miner' with a game laig, +an' more gold than I could spend if I lived to be as old as Methooslum." + +His glance strayed to the modern building across the creek with its +iron roof, and white painted siding. In this building, erected a month +before, were the general offices of the partners, the construction and +hydraulic engineers, the chemist, the purchasing agent, the paymaster, +the bookkeeper, and a score of clerks and stenographers. + +There, also, Waseche Bill had had his own office, as general manager of +the mine, but after an uncomfortable four weeks of hardwood floors, +ground glass doors, and polished desk tops, he moved his office into the +one-roomed log cabin across the creek, and upon this, the first day of +his installation in his new quarters, he grinned happily out of the +window as he watched Cain, the construction engineer, wallow through the +new-fallen snow and climb the slippery bank, on his first trip of +consultation. And Waseche's grin widened as he heard the engineer +endeavouring to remove the snow and sticky mud from his boots before +entering. + +"Stomp 'em off inside, Cain," he called. "The floor's solider, an' +you'll have better luck." + +"Beastly place for an office!" growled the engineer, as he unrolled a +blue print, spread it upon the rough pine desk, and glanced with +disapproval about the room. "Your office in the main building was so +much more convenient." + +"Yup," answered Waseche. "That was the trouble. About every five minutes +in would pop one of you birds an' pester me with some question or +'nother. What I hire you-all for is to get results. What do I care +whether you use a double-jointed conniption valve, or a reverse English +injector on the donkey engine, so you get the water into them sluices? +Or what do I care whether the bookkeeper keeps all the accounts +separate, or adds gum-boots, an' cyanide, an' sandpaper, an' wages all +up in one colyumn? Or whether the chemist uses peroxide of magentum, or +sweet spirits of rawhide, so he gits the gold? The way it is now, +you-all's goin' to do a little figgerin' fer yourself before you'll wade +through the water an' mud, or waller through the snow, to git over here. +An' besides I cain't think right without I can rare back with my feet on +the table an' my back ag'in' a good solid log wall." + +Cain, who understood and loved his employer, chuckled heartily. A few +minutes later he rolled up the blue print and buttoned his mackinaw. "By +the way, Waseche," he said, with his hand in the door latch, "I'm +sending you over a stenographer----" + +"_Me_ one!" cried Waseche Bill in alarm. + +"Yes, you need one. Be reasonable, and let me talk for a minute. Here +you are, one of the gold magnates of Alaska, and a lot of the +correspondence that comes in you've got to handle yourself. You know +your spelling and Mr. Webster's don't always agree, and your handwriting +is almost illegible in pencil--and worse in ink----" + +"Well, ain't we got a half dozen stenographers now?" + +"Yes, but they're all up to their ears in work, and we've been paying +them overtime to transcribe your scrawls into readable English. So I +heard of this fellow in Fairbanks, and sent for him. He came in +yesterday, with Black Jack Demeree's mail team." Cain's eyes twinkled as +he paused and grinned. "He's only been in the country a few weeks--a +rank _chechako_--but try to put up with him, because stenographers are +hard to get and he seems to be a good one. I'll send him over with a +couple of men to carry his outfit. I thought I ought to break the news +to you----" + +"An' I ort to break your neck," growled Waseche. "But send him +along--mebbe my spellin' an', as the fellow says, chiropody, aint what +it ort to be--anyway we'll try him." + +A few minutes later the door opened and a couple of miners entered with +a chair and a table, upon which they deposited a typewriter. Waseche +glared as the miners withdrew, and a young man of twenty-one or-two +stepped into the room. He was a tall, pale young man with store clothes +and nose glasses. Waseche continued to glare as the newcomer addressed +him: + +"Is this Mr. Antrim? I'm the new stenographer. You were expecting me, +sir?" + +Waseche eyed him from top to toe, and shook his head in resignation. +"Well--almost, from what Cain said--but not quite. Was you born in +servitude?" + +The newcomer shifted his weight to the other foot. "Sir?" he asked, +doubtfully. + +Waseche deliberately filled his pipe and, tilting his chair against the +wall, folded his arms. "Yup--that's what I meant--that 'sir,' an' the +'Mister Antrim.' I ain't no Englishman. I'm an American. I ain't no +'sir,' nor likewise 'mister.' My name's Waseche Bill. It's a good +name--good enough to live by, an' to be called by--an' good enough to +write at the bottom of a check. What's yourn?" + +"Percival Lafollette." + +"Percival Lafollette," repeated Waseche, gravely rolling the name upon +his tongue. "'Was you in the original Floradora Sextette?" + +"Why, no, sir----" + +"No what?" + +"No--no--" stammered Percival, in confusion. + +"That's it--no!--just plain _no_! When you've got that said, you're +through with that there partic'lar train of thought." + +"No--they were girls--the Floradora Sextette." + +"So they was," agreed Waseche, solemnly. "Did you bring the mail over?" + +"Yes, s--yes, here it is." He placed a handful of letters on the pine +table that served as Waseche's desk. + +"All right, just take off your cloak an' bonnet, an' pry the lid off +that there infernal machine, an' we'll git to work." + +A few minutes later the new stenographer stood at attention, notebook in +hand. Waseche Bill, who had been watching him closely, noted that he +shivered slightly, as he removed his overcoat, and that he coughed +violently into a handkerchief. Glancing into the pale face, he asked +abruptly: "Sick--lunger?" + +Percival nodded, and Waseche motioned him close, and when he stood at +his side reached out and unbuttoned his vest, then his thin shirt, and +took his undershirt between his thumb and finger. Then he snorted in +disgust. "Look a-here, young fellow, you an' me might's well have it +out. I aint' a-goin' to have no lunger workin' fer me!" + +At the words, the other turned a shade paler, buttoned his clothing, and +reached for his overcoat. + +"Come back here! Where you goin'?" + +"Why--I thought----" + +"You ain't hired to think. I've got a shanty full of thinkers over +acrost the crick. You're hired to spell. An' after a while you'll learn +that you'll know more about what I'm sayin' if you wait till I git +through. In the first place, fire that there book an' pencil over in the +corner, an' put on your coat an' hat an' hit over to Scotty MacDougall's +store an' tell him to give you a reg'lar man's outfit of clothes. No +wonder you're a lunger; dressin' in them hen-skins! Git plenty of good +thick flannel underwear, wool socks, _mukluks_, a couple of pairs of +good britches, mackinaw, cap, mittens, sheep-lined overcoat--the whole +business, an' charge 'em up to me. You didn't come through from +Fairbanks in them things?" + +"Yes, Mr. Demeree----" + +"You mean Black Jack?" + +"Yes, Black Jack loaned me a parka." + +"Well, git now--an' put them new duds on, an' come back here, pausin' +only long enough to stick them hen-skins in the stove--shoes, overcoat, +an' the whole mess. You're in a man's country, now, son," continued +Waseche in a kindly tone. "An' you've got to look like a man--an' act +like a man--an' _be_ a man. You've got a lot to live down--with a name +like that--an' a woman's job--an' a busted lung--an' a servant's +manners. I never seen anyone quite so bad off to start with. What you'll +be in a year from now is up to you--an' me. I guarantee you'll have good +lungs, an' a man's name--the rest is fer you to do. Git, now--an' hurry +back." + +The young man opened his lips, but somehow the words would not come, +and Waseche interrupted him. "By the way, did you tell anyone your name +around here?" he asked. + +The other shook his head, and as he turned to get his overcoat a +commotion drew both to the window. A dog team was climbing the creek +bank. Connie Morgan was driving, urging the dogs up the deep slope, and +on the sled was an Indian wrapped in blankets. Neither Connie nor the +Indian received more than a passing glance, for in the lead of the team, +sharp pointed muzzle low to the ground and huge shoulders heaving into +the harness, was the great wolf-dog that Connie had found guarding the +unconscious form of his master from the attack of the wolf pack. A cry +escaped the stenographer's lips and even Waseche gasped as he took in +the details of the superb animal. + +Percival instinctively drew closer. "It's--it's--the great wolf we saw +on the trail! Black Jack Demeree said he'd never seen his like. Oh, he +can't get in here, can he?" + +Waseche shook the speaker roughly by the shoulder. "Yes--he can," he +answered. "He'll be in here in just about a minute--an' here's where +you start bein' a man. Don't you squinch back--if he eats you up! The +next ten minutes will make or break you, for good an' all." And hardly +were the words out of his mouth than the door burst open and Connie +entered the office, closely followed by the Indian and Leloo, the great +ruffed wolf-dog. + +"I got him, Waseche!" he cried. "He's mine! I'll tell you all about it +later--this is 'Merican Joe." + +The Indian nodded and grinned toward the boy. + +"_Skookum tillicum_," he grunted. + +"You bet!" assented Waseche, and as Connie led the great dog to him, the +man laid his hand on the huge ruff of silvered hair. + +"Some dog, son," he said. "The best I ever seen." He flashed a swift +glance at Percival who stood at his side, and saw that his face was +white as death, that his lips were drawn into a thin, bloodless line, +and that little beads of sweat stood out like dew on the white brow. But +even as he looked, the stenographer stretched out his hand and laid it +on the great dog's head, and he, too, stroked the silvery hair of the +great ruff. + +Waseche, noticing that Connie cast an inquiring glance at the newcomer, +introduced him, abruptly: "Son, this here's Roarin' Mike O'Reilly, from +over on the Tanana. He's our new stenographer, an' while he goes an' +gits on his reg'lar clothes, you an' me an' the Injun will knock off fer +noon, an' go over to the cabin." + +During the preparation of the midday meal Connie told Waseche of how he +had found 'Merican Joe, starved and unconscious in his little +snow-covered shelter tent, and of how, out of gratitude, the Indian had +presented him with Leloo. Waseche eyed the great ruffed animal sombrely, +as Connie dwelt upon his curiously mixed nature--how he ran the ridges +at night at the head of the wolf pack, and of how, ripping and slashing, +he had defended his helpless master against the fangs of those same +wolves. + +"Well, son," he drawled, when the boy had concluded, "he's the finest +brute I ever seen--barrin' none. But keep your eye on him. If he ever +gits his dates mixed--if he ever turns wolf when he'd ort to be +dog--_good-night_!" + +"I'll watch him," smiled the boy. "And, Waseche, where do you think +'Merican Joe came from?" + +"Well," grinned his big partner, "fetchin' such a lookin' brute-beast as +that along with him--I'd hate to say." + +"He came from beyond the Mackenzie! He knows the country." + +"That's prob'ly why he come away," answered Waseche, dryly. + +"But he's going back--he's going with me. We're going to hit the trail +for Dawson tomorrow, and hit across the mountains by way of Bonnet Plume +Pass, and outfit at Fort Norman on the Mackenzie, and then strike out +for the eastern end of Great Bear Lake, and the barren grounds. We're +going to trap the rest of the winter and next summer we're going to +prospect and figure on starting a trading post. We've got it all worked +out." + +"Oh, jest like that, eh? It ort to be right smart of a little ja'nt. +With nothin' between Dawson an' Fort Norman--an' nothin' beyond." + +"We might make another strike. And if we don't we can trap." + +"Yup, that's a great idee--that trappin'. If you both work like a dog +all winter out in them there barren lands, an' freeze an' starve, an' +have good luck with your traps, you'd ort to clean up as much as two +dollars a day." + +"But look at the country we'd see! And the fun we'd have!" + +"Ain't they country enough to see here in Alaska? An' as fer fun--some +folks idee of humour gits me! Who ever heard of anyone goin' 'leven +hundred miles into nowheres for to have fun? I tell you, son, I've +know'd stampedes to start on mighty slim information, but never as slim +as what you've got. I read your book, an' all them old parties had to go +on was the stories of some Injuns--an' the whole mess of 'em's be'n dead +most two hundred years! An' I think the book's a fake, anyhow--'cause I +don't believe gold's been invented that long! No, sir, take it from me, +it's the dog-gonedest wild goose chase ever undertook by anyone--but, at +that--if it wasn't for this game laig of mine, I b'lieve I'd go 'long!" + +After dinner Connie started to overhaul his trail outfit while Waseche +looked on. After a while the man rose, and put on his mackinaw. + +"I've got to go back to the office," he said. "Me an' Roarin' Mike +O'Reilly has got to tackle that mail." + +Connie shot his big partner a long, sidewise glance. "He must be some +rough bird to earn a name like that over on the Tanana." + +"Rough as pig iron," answered Waseche solemnly. "He eats 'em alive, +Roarin' does." + +"What--pancakes?" + +"Yup--pancakes, an' grizzlies. Roarin' Mike, he takes 'em as they come. +Didn't you see him lay holt of your wolf-dog?" + +"Yes," answered the boy, as solemn as an owl. "And I don't like folks to +be so rough with Leloo." + +"He promised he wouldn't hurt your dog when we seen you comin' up the +hill." + +"It's a good thing you've got him where you can keep your eye on him. If +he ever gets loose he's liable to run the crew off the works." + +"Yup. I'll watch out for that. He's a stenographer. It's claimed he kin +spell--better'n what I kin. An' when he gits a letter wrote down, it kin +be read without a jury." + +"I think you've picked a winner, at that, Waseche. I was watching him +when he put out his hand to touch Leloo. He would rather have shoved it +into the fire. There's something to him, even if the names did get mixed +on the package when they shipped him in. I suppose that somewhere over +on the Tanana there's a big, red-eyed, double-fisted roughneck charging +around among the construction camps packing a name like 'Nellie.'" + +Waseche grinned. "Percival Lafollette, to be exact. I furnished the +Roarin' Mike O'Reilly part, along with a full an' complete outfit of +men's wearin' apparel. When he gets to where he can live up to the +Roarin' Mike name, he can discard it an' take back his own. Might's well +give the boy a chanct. Cain thought he'd put it over on me, 'count of my +movin' my office where he'd have to waller acrost the crick to it. But +I'll fool him good an' proper. The kid's a lunger, an' the first thing +to do is to git him started in to feelin' like a man. I figured they was +somethin' to him when I first seen him. If they wasn't, how did he get +up here in the middle of Alaska an' winter comin' on--an' nothin' +between him an' freezin' but them hen-skin clothes? An' I was watchin', +too, when he laid his hand on the dog's head. He was so scairt that the +sweat was jest a-bubblin' out of him--an' yet, he retch out an' done +like I done--an' believe me, I wasn't none too anxious to fool with that +brute, myself. I done it to see if he would. I'm goin' to take holt an' +make a reg'lar man out of him. I figger we kin git through the office +work by noon every day. If we don't, them birds over in the thinkers' +shack is in for more overtime. In the afternoons I'm goin' to keep him +out in the air--that's all a lunger needs--plenty air, an' good grub. +We'll tromp around the hills and hunt. We'll be a pair to draw to--him +with his busted lungs, an' me with my game laig. We was all _chechakos_ +onct. They's two kinds of _chechakos_--the ones with _nerve_ an' the +ones with _brass_. The ones with the real nerve is the kind that stays +in the big country. But the other kind of _chechakos_--the ones with +brass--the bluff an' bluster--the counterfeit nerve that don't fool no +one but theirself--the luckiest thing that can happen to them is they +should live long enough to git back to the outside where they come +from--an' most of 'em's lucky if they live long enough to starve to +death." + +"I guess he's the first kind," opined Connie. "When I come back I +expect he'll be a regular sourdough." + +"When you're gone I reckon I'll jest have him move his traps up here. I +won't be so lonesome, an' I can keep cases on him----" + +"But--" interrupted Connie. + +Waseche divined his thoughts and shook his head. "No, they ain't no +danger. My lungs is made of whang leather, an' besides, he ain't no +floor spitter--I watched him in the office. Even if he was it wouldn't +take mor'n about a minute to break him of that." + +By nightfall Connie and 'Merican Joe had the outfit all ready for the +trail, and the following morning they departed at daylight, with half of +Ten Bow waving good-bye, as the great silver wolf-dog swung out onto the +long snow trail at the head of the team. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +BRASS + + +It was high noon, just two weeks from the day Connie Morgan and 'Merican +Joe pulled out of Ten Bow, and the two halted their dogs on the summit +of Bonnet Plume Pass and gazed out over the jumbled mass of peaks and +valleys and ridges that lay to the eastward. The first leg of the long +snow trail, from Ten Bow to Dawson, had been covered over a +well-travelled trail with road houses at convenient intervals. Over this +trail with Connie's team of seven big malamutes, headed by the great +ruffed wolf-dog, they had averaged forty miles a day. + +At Dawson they outfitted for the trip to Fort Norman, a distance of +about five hundred miles. Connie was fortunate in being able to purchase +from a prospector eight Mackenzie River dogs which he presented to +'Merican Joe, much to the Indian's surprise and delight. The Alaska +sled was replaced by two toboggans, and 'Merican Joe nodded approval at +Connie's selection of supplies. For from now on there would be no road +houses and, for the most of the way, no trail. And their course would +thread the roughest country on the whole continent. Therefore, the +question of outfitting was a problem to be taken seriously. Too little +grub in the sub-arctic in winter means death--horrible, black-tongued, +sunken-eyed death by starvation and freezing. And too much outfit means +overstrain on the dogs, slower travel, and unless some of it is +discarded or _cached_, it means all kinds of trouble for the trail +mushers. + +The surest test of a sourdough is his outfit. Connie figured the trip +should take thirty-five days, which should put them into Fort Norman on +the fifth of November. But Connie had been long enough in the North to +take that word "should" none too literally. He knew that under very +favourable conditions the trip might be made in twenty days, and he knew +also that it might take fifty days. Therefore although the month was +November, a very favourable month for hunting, and the country to be +traversed was good game country, he did not figure his rifle for a +single pound of meat. If meat were killed on the journey, well and good. +But if no meat were killed, and if they lost their way, or encountered +blizzard after howling blizzard, and their journey lengthened to fifteen +or twenty days beyond the estimated time, Connie was determined that it +should also be well and good. + +He remembered men who had been found in the spring and +buried--_chechakos_, most of them who had disregarded advice, and whose +outfits had been cut down to a minimum that allowed no margin of safety +for delay. But some of them had been sourdoughs who had taken a chance +and depended on their rifles for food--it had been the same in the end. +In the spring the men who buried them read the whole story of the +wilderness tragedy in visiting their last few camps. Each day the +distance between them shortened, here a dog was killed and eaten, here +another, and another, until at the very last camp, half buried in the +sodden ashes of the last fire, would be found the kettle with its scraps +of moccasins and bits of dog harness shrivelled and dried--moccasin +soup, the very last hopeless expedient of the doomed trail musher. And +generally the grave was dug beside this fire--never far beyond it. + +And so Connie added a safety margin to the regular sub-arctic standard +of grub for the trail, and when the outfit pulled out of Dawson the +toboggans carried three and one half pounds of grub apiece for each of +the thirty-five days, which was a full half pound more than was needed, +and this, together with their outfit of sleeping bags, clothing, +utensils, and nine hundred pounds of dog food, totalled thirteen hundred +and fifty pounds--ninety pounds to the dog, which with good dogs is a +comfortable load. + +The summit of the Bonnet Plume pass is a bleak place. And dreary and +bleak and indescribably rugged is the country surrounding it. Connie and +'Merican Joe, seated in the lee of their toboggans, boiled a pot of tea +over the little primus stove. + +"We've made good time so far," said the boy. "About three hundred miles +more and we'll hit Fort Norman." + +'Merican Joe nodded. "Yes, but we got de luck. On dis side we ain' gon' +hav' so mooch luck. Too mooch plenty snow--plenty win'. An' tonight, +mor' comin'." He indicated the sky to the northward, where, beyond the +glittering white peaks, the blue faded to a sullen grey. + +"You're right," answered Connie, dropping a chunk of ice into his cup of +scalding tea. "And I'd sure like to make a patch of timber. These high, +bare canyons are rotten places to camp in a blizzard. If you camp in the +middle of 'em you've got to tie yourself down or the wind might hang you +on a rock somewhere, and if you camp out of the wind against a wall, a +snow cornice might bust loose and bury you forty feet deep." + +'Merican Joe grinned. "You sourdough--you know. I know you sourdough +w'en I seen you han'le de dogs--an' I know w'en you buy de grub. But +mos' I know w'en you pack de toboggan--you ain' put all de grub on wan +toboggan an' all de odder stuff on de odder toboggan----" + +Connie laughed. "Lots of men have made that mistake. And then if they +get separated one dies of starvation, and the other freezes to death, or +if they lose one toboggan they're in the same fix." + +'Merican Joe returned the dishes and stove to the pack and glanced at +the sky. "I ain' t'ink we mak' de timber tonight. She git dark queek +now--seven, eight mile mor' we got to camp." + +"Yes," assented Connie. "And the days are getting so short that from now +on we'll quit camping at noon. We'll pull once and make a day of +it--anyway till we get a moon." + +[Illustration: "In the whirling blizzard, without protection of timber, +one place was as good as another to camp, and while the Indian busied +himself with the dogs, Connie proceeded to dig a trench in the snow." + +Drawn by Frank E. Schoonover] + +To this plan the Indian readily agreed and a moment later struck out +ahead as "forerunner" to break trail for the dogs. Despite the fact that +there was more snow on the eastern slope, the two soon found it +insufficient to check the toboggans upon the series of steep pitches and +long slopes they now encountered. At the end of a mile a halt was made, +Connie's dogs were turned loose to follow, both toboggans were hitched +behind the Mackenzie River dogs, and while 'Merican Joe plodded ahead, +Connie had all he could do at the tail rope. An hour later the wind +suddenly changed and came roaring out of the north. The whole sky became +overcast and stinging particles of flinty snow were driven against their +faces. The storm increased in fury. The stinging particles changed to +dry, powdery snow dust that whirled and eddied about them so thickly +that Connie could not see the dogs from the rear of the toboggans. +Covering their noses and mouths, the two bored on through the white +smother--a slow moving, ghostly procession, with the snow powder matted +thick into the hairy coats of the dogs and the clothing of the mushers. +Not until darkness added to the impenetrability of the storm did +'Merican Joe halt. In the whirling blizzard, without protection of +timber, one place was as good as another to camp, and while the Indian +busied himself with the dogs Connie proceeded to dig a trench in the +snow. This trench was as long as the toboggans, and wide enough to +accommodate the two sleeping bags placed side by side. Three feet down +the boy struck ice. The sleeping bags, primus stove, and part of the +food were dumped into the trench. The loaded toboggans were tipped on +edge, one along either side, and the heavy canvas shelter tarp was +stretched over these and weighted down by doubling its edges under the +toboggans. The open ends were blocked with snow, the dogs fed and left +to make their own beds, and the two crawled into their snug quarters +where by the light of a candle they prepared a good hot meal on the +little stove and devoured it in warmth and comfort while the storm +roared harmlessly over their heads. + +For two days they were storm bound, venturing out only to feed the dogs +and from time to time to relieve the tarp roof of its burden of snow. +The third day dawned cold and clear, and daylight found the outfit on +the move. They were following a creek bed, and the depth of the snow, +together with the easing of the slope, permitted the use of both teams. +No halt was made at noon and when they camped at dark they estimated +they had made fifteen miles. Five days of fair cold weather followed and +each night found them from fifteen to eighteen miles from the camp of +the night before. No game had been sighted, but on two of the nights +Leloo had left camp, and once, from some ridge far to the northward, +they had heard his long-drawn howl of the kill. + +On the sixth day another storm broke. They were following the +snow-covered bed of a fair-sized river which Connie hoped would prove to +be the head-waters of the Gravel, which empties into the Mackenzie some +forty-five miles above Fort Norman. They had left the highest mountains +behind, and patches of timber appeared at frequent intervals along the +banks of the stream. As the storm thickened they camped, setting up +their tent in the shelter of a thicket, and in the morning they pushed +on despite the storm. It was nearly noon when Connie called to 'Merican +Joe, and when the Indian made his way back, the boy pointed to Leloo. +The great wolf-dog had halted in the traces and stood with nose up +sniffing the air, while the huge ruff seemed to swell to twice its size, +and the hair along its spine bristled menacingly. + +They had stopped opposite a patch of timber taller than any they had +passed, the tops of the trees being visible between the gusts of +whirling snow. "Moose or a bear in there," ventured Connie. "Let's go +get him." + +'Merican Joe shook his head. "No. Leloo, he ketch de man scent. He ain' +ac' lak dat for moose an' bear." + +"Man scent! What would any men be doing up here?" + +The Indian shrugged. "Hunt, trap, mebbe-so prospeck. Com' on, le's go. +It ain' no good we go in dere." He paused and pointed to the dog. "Bad +mans in dere--Leloo, he know. Bad mans smells one way--good mans smells +anudder way. Leloo ain' git mad for good mans." + +"We can't go away and leave them," Connie answered. "They may be out of +luck--may need help." + +Again 'Merican Joe shrugged, but offered no further objection, and +releasing Leloo from his harness the two followed him into the timber. A +short distance back from the edge they came upon a rude log cabin, +glaringly the work of inexperienced builders. No tracks were seen about +the door, and no smoke rose from the stovepipe that served as a chimney. +'Merican Joe pushed open the door. + +"It's 'bout time you was comin'--an' me crippled," came a petulant voice +from the bed. "But what do you care--" The voice ceased suddenly, and +'Merican Joe sprang back from the doorway so swiftly that he knocked +Connie into the snow. As the boy picked up himself he again heard the +voice. "Git out of here, you thievin' Injun or I'll blow yer head off!" + +Ignoring the protest of 'Merican Joe, Connie thrust his head in at the +doorway. "What's the matter with you?" he asked, sharply. "Are you +crazy?" + +The man in the bed stared a moment and with seeming reluctance lowered +his rifle. "Who're you?" he asked, sullenly. "If you want grub y're out +of luck. We ain't got none to spare--an' I got a rifle here that says +you don't git none of it." Involuntarily, Connie's glance swept the +supplies piled along the walls and upon the shelves, and estimated a +four-man outfit. + +"How many of you are there?" he asked. "And why haven't you got a fire?" + +"They's two of us, an' I ain't got no fire 'cause my partner ain't +showed up to build none. I'm crippled--sunk an ax in my foot a couple +days back." + +"Where is your partner?" + +"I dunno. He went to look at the traps yesterday an' he ain't got back +yet." He noticed the snow clinging to Connie's garments. "Is it +snowin'?" he asked, in sudden alarm. + +"Snowing!" exclaimed the boy. "Of course it's snowing--it's been snowing +since yesterday noon." + +The man's voice dropped into a whine. "The winders is frosted so you +can't see out. I bet he's lost. Go find him, can't you? What're you +standin' there fer?" + +Righteous indignation succeeded the flash of disgust engendered by the +man's first words. And Connie stepped closer. "Look here, who do you +think you're talking to? I don't know who you are, and I don't want to. +What I can't figure is how you ever got this far. If nobody else had +bothered to knock some common sense and decency into you it's a wonder +your partner hasn't. But I guess he don't know the difference between +you and a man or he wouldn't be your partner." Connie turned on his heel +and started for the door. + +"Hey, where you goin'?" wailed the man on the bunk. + +"I'm going out and tend to my dogs," answered the boy. + +"Build a fire first, an' cook me some grub! I ain't had nothin' since +yesterday." + +"After the dogs," said Connie as he banged the door behind him. + +"Le's mush," said 'Merican Joe, when they returned to the dogs. + +Connie grinned. "No, we can't do that. I've seen some pretty raw +_chechakos_, but never one like him. If we pulled out they'd probably +both die." + +'Merican Joe gave an expressive shrug. "_S'pose_ we ain't got no grub. +He ain' care _we_ die." + +"No, but we're men, and he----" + +"He ain' so good lak Injun dog," interrupted 'Merican Joe. + +"Just about--but we can't go off and leave him, at that." + +Twenty minutes later Connie and the Indian entered the cabin. + +"You took yer time about it," complained the man. "Hustle around now an' +cook me up a meal of vittles." + +"Where's your firewood?" asked the boy, smothering his wrath. + +"Go out an' cut it, same as we do." + +"Don't you keep any ahead, nor any kindlings?" + +"Naw, it's bad enough to cut a little at a time." + +Connie's glance sought the room. "Where's the ax?" + +"Out in the brush, I guess. My partner cut the wood last. I don't know +where he left it." + +"Well, it's under about two feet of snow now," answered the boy dryly, +as 'Merican Joe departed to get their own ax and cut some wood. + +By the time the cabin was warmed and the man fed, the storm had ceased. +"Let me have a look at your foot," said Connie. "I expect it had better +be tended to." The man assented, and the boy turned back the covers and, +despite much groaning and whining complaint, removed the bandage and +replaced it with a clean one. + +"Pretty bad gash," opined Connie. "How did it happen?" + +"Cuttin' firewood--holdin' the stick with my foot an' the ax struck a +knot." + +"You've got to learn a lot, haven't you?" + +"What d'you mean--learn? How you goin' to cut firewood without you hold +it with yer foot?" + +"Nex' tam dat better you hol' de chunk wit' you neck," advised 'Merican +Joe. + +"Is that so! Well, believe me, I ain't takin' no advise offen no Siwash, +nor no kid, neither!" + +Connie pulled his cap down over his ears and drew on his mackinaw and +mittens. "We're wasting time here, the days are short and if we're going +to find your partner we've got to get at it. How long is your trap +line, and where does it run?" + +"We got about twenty-five martin traps out. They're acrost the river up +the first crick--strung along about three or four mile." + +"Twenty-fi' trap! Three or four mile!" exclaimed 'Merican Joe. "How long +you be'n here?" + +"Just a month. What's the matter with that? We've got eight martin an' a +wolverine an' a link!" + +The Indian gave a snort of contempt. "Me--if I ain' set mor' trap as dat +every day I ain' t'ink I done nuttin'." He followed Connie to the door. + +"You might's well move yer junk in here if you got your own grub. You +kin keep the fire goin' nights in case Tom don't show up, an' besides I +ain't had no one to talk to fer goin' on two months except Tom, an' we +don't git on none too good." + +"Thanks," said Connie. "But we'll put up the tent when we come +back--we're a little particular, ourselves." + +"They ain't no use of both of you goin' out to hunt him. One of you stay +here and tend the fire, an' cook supper in case the other one don't git +back in time." + +Connie glared at the man for a moment, and burst out laughing. "If you +had a little more nerve and a whole lot less _brass_, there might be +some hope for you yet," he opined. "Did your partner have any dogs with +him?" + +"Naw, we had six when we come in, but they was worked down skin pore +when we got here, an' some of 'em died, an' the rest run off. They +wasn't no good, nohow." + +Connie banged the door in disgust and, taking Leloo with them, the two +struck across the river. They found the creek without difficulty and had +proceeded scarcely a mile when Leloo halted in his tracks and began +sniffing the air. This time the hair of his neck and spine did not +bristle, and the two watched him as he stood, facing a spruce-covered +hill, his head moving slightly from side to side, as his delicate +pointed nostrils quivered as if to pick up some elusive scent. "Go on, +Leloo. Go git um!" urged 'Merican Joe, and the wolf-dog trotted into the +spruce, followed by Connie and the Indian. Halfway up the slope the dog +quickened his pace, and coming suddenly upon a mound in the new-fallen +snow circled it several times and squatted upon his haunches. It took +Connie and the Indian but a few moments to scrape away the snow and +disclose the skinned carcass of a moose. + +'Merican Joe pointed to the carcass. "It be'n snowin' quite a w'ile w'en +he skin de moose. He ain' goin' carry dat hide far. She heavy. He ain' +know nuttin' 'bout skinnin', an' lef' lot of meat stick to de hide. He +start hom' an' git los'." + +"Lost!" exclaimed Connie. "Surely he wouldn't get lost within a mile of +his cabin!" + +'Merican Joe nodded. "Him _chechako_--git los' anywheres. Git los' +somtam w'en she snowin' bad, hondre steps from cabin. Me--I know. One +git los' an' froze dead, wan tam, he go for water not so far you kin +t'row de stone." + +"Well, he's probably home by this time. If he was lost he'd camp, and +he's had plenty of time since it stopped snowing." + +The Indian was not so hopeful. "No, I'm t'ink he ain' got sense 'nough +to camp. He walk an' git scare, an' den he mebbe-so run till he fall +down." + +"He won't do much running with that hide," grinned Connie. "Let's +separate and hunt for him. Come, Leloo--go find him!" + +The two continued to the top of the timbered slope. "I don't see how +anyone could possibly get lost here. Surely he would know enough to go +down hill to the creek, and follow it to the river, wouldn't he?" + +"No, w'en dey git scairt dey don't know up an' down an' crossways." + +As the two were about to separate both suddenly paused to listen. +Faintly upon the air, seemingly from miles away, came the call of a +human voice. Leloo heard it too, and with ears stiffly erect stood +looking far out over the ridges. Raising his rifle, Connie fired into +the air, and almost immediately the sound of the shot was answered by +the faint call for help. + +"That's funny," cried the boy. "Sound don't travel very fast. How could +he possibly have answered as soon as that?" + +Placing his hands to his mouth, 'Merican Joe launched a yell that seemed +fairly to tear through the spaces, echoing and re-echoing across, the +valley. + +Again came the answering call, faintly, as from a great distance. +Locating the direction of the sound which seemed to come from somewhere +near the head of a parallel valley, they plunged straight down the +opposite slope. At the bottom they paused again, and again the Indian +sent his peculiar penetrating yell hurtling through the air. Again it +was answered, but this time it came from up the slope. Faintly it +reached their ears, seemingly farther away than before. The sound was +repeated as the two stood looking at each other in bewilderment. + +'Merican Joe's eyes seemed bulging from his head. "_Tamahnawus_," he +whispered. "W'at you call, de ghos'. He git froze, an' hees ghos' run +'roun' de hills an' yell 'bout dat! Me--I'm gon'!" Abruptly the Indian +turned and started as fast as his webs would let him in the direction of +the river. + +"Come back here!" cried Connie. "Don't be a fool! There ain't any +_tamahnawuses_--and if there are, I've got the medicine that will lick +'em! I brought one in once that had run a whole tribe of Injuns off +their hunting ground." + +'Merican Joe, who had halted at the boy's command, looked dubious. "I +ain' huntin' no _tamahnawus_--I ain' los' none!" + +"You come with me," laughed the boy, "and I'll show you your +_tamahnawus_. I've got a hunch that fellow has dropped into a cave or +something and can't get out. And he can't be so very far off either." + +With Connie in the lead they ascended the slope in the direction of the +sound which came now from a point upstream from where they had +descended. Once more Leloo paused and sniffed, the hair of his back +bristling. Whatever the object of his attention, it seemed to lie +beneath the outspreading branches of a large spruce. Connie peered +beneath the branches where an oblong of snow appeared to have been +disturbed from under the surface. Even as he looked the sound of a +voice, plain enough now to distinguish the words, reached his ears. + +"Git me out of here! Ain't you never comin'? Or be you goin' to leave me +here 'cause I burnt them pancakes?" + +"Come on out," called Connie. "What's the matter with you?" + +"Come on out! How kin I? Who be you?" + +Connie reached the man's side and proceeded to scrape away the snow, +while 'Merican Joe stood at a respectful distance, his rifle at full +cock. "Come on Joe!" the boy called, at length. "Here's your +_tamahnawus_--and it's going to take two of us to get him out." + +When the snow had been removed both Connie and the Indian stared in +surprise. There lay the man closely wrapped in his moose skin, fur side +in, and the heavy hide frozen to the hardness of iron! + +"I'm all cramped up," wailed the man. "I can't move." + +The man was wrapped, head and all, in the frozen hide. Fortunately, he +had left an air space but this had nearly sealed shut by the continued +freezing of his breath about its edges. + +Rolling him over the two grasped the edge of the heavy hide and +endeavoured to unroll it, but they might as well have tried to unroll +the iron sheathing of a boiler. + +"We've got to build a fire and thaw him out," said Connie. + +"Tak' um to de cabin," suggested the Indian. "Kin drag um all same +toboggan." + +The plan looked reasonable but they had no rope for a trace line. Connie +overcame the difficulty by making a hole with his hand ax in a flap of +the hide near the man's feet, and cutting a light spruce sapling which +he hooked by means of a limb stub into the hole. + +By using the sapling in the manner of a wagon tongue, they started for +the cabin, keeping to the top of the ridge where the snow was shallow +and wind-packed. + +All went well until they reached the end of the ridge. A mile back, +where they had ascended the slope, the pitch had not been great, but as +they neared the river the sides grew steeper, until they were confronted +by a three hundred foot slope with an extremely steep pitch. This slope +was sparsely timbered, and great rocks protruded from the snow. Connie +was for retracing the ridge to a point where the ascent was not so +steep, but 'Merican Joe demurred. + +[Illustration: "The third day dawned cold and clear, and daylight found +the outfit on the move." + +Drawn by Frank E. Schoonover] + +"It git dark queek, now. We git um down all right. Turn um roun' an' +mak de pole lak de tail rope on de toboggan--we hol' um back easy." The +early darkness was blurring distant outlines and the descent at that +point meant the saving of an hour, so Connie agreed and for the first +twenty yards all went well. Then suddenly the human toboggan struck the +ice of a hillside spring and shot forward. The pole slipped from the +snowy mittens of the two and, enveloped in a cloud of flying snow, the +man in the frozen moose hide went shooting down the slope! Connie and +'Merican Joe barely saved themselves from following him, and, squatting +low on their webs they watched in a fascination of horror as the flying +body struck a tree trunk, shot sidewise, ploughed through the snow, +struck a rock, bounded high into the air, struck another rock and, +gaining momentum with every foot, shot diagonally downward--rolling, +whirling, sliding--straight for the brink of a rock ledge with a sheer +drop of twenty-five or thirty feet. Over the edge it shot and landed +with a loud thud among the broken rock fragments of the valley floor. + +"We ought to have gone back!" shuddered the boy. "He's dead by this +time." + +'Merican Joe shrugged. "Anyhow, dat com' queek. Dat better as if he lay +back onder de tree an' froze an' starve, an' git choke to deat' w'en his +air hole git froze shut. He got good strong coffin anyhow." + +Relieved of their burden it was but the work of a few moments to gain +the floor of the valley and hasten to the form wedged tightly between +two upstanding boulders, where they were greeted by the voice of the +man raised in whining complaint. + +"Are you hurt?" eagerly asked Connie, kneeling at the man's side and +looking at him closely. + +"Naw, I ain't hurt but can't you pick out no smoother trail? I'm all +jiggled up!" In his relief at finding the man unharmed, Connie +laughingly promised a smoother trail, and as he and the Indian pried him +from between the rocks with a young tree, the boy noted that the frozen +moose hide had scarcely been dented by its contact with the trees and +rocks. + +In the cabin the stove was crammed with wood and the man laid upon the +floor close beside it, but it was nearly daylight the following morning +before the hide had thawed sufficiently for the combined efforts of +Connie and the Indian to unroll it. All night the two tended the fire +and listened to the petty bickering and quarrelling of the two helpless +partners, the man in the bunk taunting the other with being a fool for +wrapping up in a green moose hide, and being in turn called a fool for +chopping his own foot. It was disgusting in the extreme to Connie but at +last the humour of the situation got the better of his disgust, and he +roared with laughter, all of which served to bring down the combined +reviling of both men upon his head. + +When at last the man was extricated from his prison and found to be +little the worse for his adventure, he uttered no word of thanks to his +rescuers. Indeed, his first words were in the nature of an indirect +accusation of theft. + +"Whur's my marten?" he asked, eying them with suspicion. + +"What marten? We didn't see any marten," answered the boy. + +"Well, I hed one. Tuk it out of a trap just before I seen the moose. +It's funny you didn't see it." Connie answered nothing, and as the man +devoured a huge breakfast without asking his rescuers to join him, he +continued to mutter and growl about his lost marten. Daylight was +breaking and Connie, bottling his wrath behind tight-pressed lips, rose +abruptly, and prepared to depart. + +"Whur you goin'?" asked the man, his cheeks distended with food. "You +lay around here soakin' up heat all night; looks like you could anyways +cut a little wood an' help worsh these dishes! An', say, don't you want +to buy some moose meat? I'll sell you all you want fer two-bits a +pound, an' cut it yerself." + +For a moment Connie saw red. His fists clenched and he swallowed hard +but once more his sense of humour asserted itself, and looking the man +squarely in the eye he burst into a roar of laughter, while 'Merican +Joe, who possessed neither Connie's self-restraint nor his sense of +humour, launched into an unflattering tirade of jumbled Indian, English, +and jargon, that, could a single word of it have been understood, would +have goaded even the craven _chechakos_ to warfare. + +Two hours later, as they sat in their cozy tent, pitched five miles down +the river, and devoured their breakfast, Connie grinned at his +companion. + +"Big difference in men--even in _chechakos_, ain't there, Joe?" + +"Humph," grunted the Indian. + +"No one else within two hundred miles of here--his partner crippled so +he never could have found him if he tried, and he never would have +tried--a few more hours and he would have been dead--we come along and +find him--and he not only don't offer us a meal, but accuses us of +stealing his marten--and offers to _sell_ us moose meat--at two-bits a +pound! I wish some of the men I know could have the handling of those +birds for about a month!" + +"Humph! If mos' w'ite men I know got to han'le um dey ain' goin' live no +mont'--you bet!" + +"Anyway," laughed the boy, "we've sure learned the difference between +_nerve_ and _brass_!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE PLAGUE FLAG IN THE SKY + + +It was nearly noon of the day following the departure of Connie Morgan +and 'Merican Joe from the camp of the two _chechakos_. + +The mountains had been left behind, and even the foothills had flattened +to low, rolling ridges which protruded irregularly into snow-covered +marshes among which the bed of the frozen river looped interminably. No +breath of air stirred the scrub willows along the bank, upon whose naked +branches a few dried and shrivelled leaves still clung. + +'Merican Joe was travelling ahead breaking trail for his dogs and the +boy saw him raise a mittened hand and brush at his cheek. A few minutes +later the Indian thrashed his arms several times across his chest as +though to restore circulation of the blood against extreme cold. But it +was not cold. A moment later the boy brushed at his own cheek which +stung disagreeably as though nipped by the frost. He glanced at the tiny +thermometer that he kept lashed to the front of his toboggan. It +registered zero, a temperature that should have rendered trailing even +without the heavy parkas uncomfortably warm. Connie glanced backward +toward the distant mountains that should have stood out clean-cut and +distinct in the clear atmosphere, but they had disappeared from view +although the sun shone dazzlingly bright from a cloudless sky. A dog +whimpered uneasily, and Connie cracked his whip above the animal's head +and noted that instead of the sharp snap that should have accompanied +the motion, the sound reached his ears in a dull pop--noted, too, that +the dogs paid no slightest heed to the sound, but plodded on +methodically--slowly, as though they were tired. Connie was conscious of +a growing lassitude--a strange heaviness that hardly amounted to +weariness but which necessitated a distinct effort of brain to complete +each muscle move. + +Suddenly 'Merican Joe halted and, removing his mitten, drew his bare +hand across his eyes. Connie noticed that the air seemed heavy and dead, +and that he could hear his own breathing and the breathing of the dogs +which had crouched with their bellies in the snow whimpering uneasily. +Wild-eyed, the Indian pointed aloft and Connie glanced upward. There was +no hint of blue in the cloudless sky. The whole dome of the heavens +glared with a garish, brassy sheen from which the sun blazed out with an +unwholesome, metallic light that gleamed in glints of gold from millions +of floating frost spicules. Even as the two stood gazing upward new suns +formed in the burnished sky--false suns that blazed and danced and +leaped together and re-formed. + +With a cry of abject terror 'Merican Joe buried his face in his arms and +stood trembling and moaning, "_Hyas skookum kultus tamahnawus--mesahchee +tamahnawus!_" (a very strong bad spirit--we are bewitched). The words +puled haltingly from lips stiff with fright. The next moment the boy was +beside him, thumping him on the back and choking him roughly: + +"_Tamahnawus_ nothing!" he cried. "Buck up! Don't be a fool! I've seen +it before. Three years ago--in the Lillimuit, it was. It's the white +death. Waseche and I hid in an ice cave. Tonight will come the strong +cold." + +The boy's voice sounded strangely toneless and flat, and when he +finished speaking he coughed. 'Merican Joe's hands had dropped to his +side and he stood dumbly watching as Connie loosened the heavy woollen +muffler from his waist and wound it about the lower half of his face. +"Cover your mouth and don't talk," the boy commanded. "Breathe through +your muffler. We can still travel, but it will be hard. We will be very +tired but we must find shelter--a cave--a cabin--a patch of timber--or +tonight we will freeze--Look! Look!" he cried suddenly, pointing to the +northward, "a mirage!" + +Both stared awe-struck as the picture formed rapidly before their eyes +and hung inverted in the brassy sky just above the horizon foreshortened +by the sweep of a low, snow-buried ridge. Both had seen mirages +before--mirages that, like a faulty glass, distorted shapes and +outlines, and mirages that brought real and recognizable places into +view like the one they were staring at in spell-bound fascination. So +perfect in detail, and so close it hung in the heavy, dead air that it +seemed as though they could reach out and touch it--a perfect inverted +picture of what appeared to be a two or three mile sweep of valley, one +side sparsely wooded, and the other sloping gently upward into the same +low-rolling ridge that formed their own northern horizon. Each stunted +tree showed distinctly, and in the edge of the timber stood a cabin, +with the smoke rising sluggishly from the chimney. They could see the +pile of split firewood at its corner and even the waterhole chopped in +the ice of the creek, with its path leading to the door. But it was not +the waterhole, or the firewood, or the cabin itself that held them +fascinated. It was the little square of scarlet cloth that hung limp and +motionless and dejected from a stick thrust beneath the eave of the tiny +cabin. It was a horrible thing to look upon for those two who knew its +significance--that flag glowing like a splotch of blood there in the +brazen sky with the false suns dancing above it. + +"The plague flag!" cried Connie. + +And almost in the same breath 'Merican Joe muttered: + +"De red death!" + +[Illustration: "It was a terrible thing to look upon to those two who +knew its significance--that flag glowing like a splotch of blood there +in the brazen sky." + +Drawn by Frank E. Schoonover] + +Even as they spoke the cabin door opened and a man stepped out. His +features were indistinguishable, but both could see that he was a large +man, for his bulk had filled the doorway. He swung a heavy pack to a +toboggan which stood waiting before the door with the dogs in harness. +The next moment the form of a woman appeared in the doorway. She +evidently called to the man, for he halted abruptly and faced about, +shook his fist at her and, turning, resumed his course, while with an +appealing gesture the woman stretched out her arms toward him. + +Then rapidly as it had formed, the picture faded and the two awe-struck +watchers stood gazing at the frost spicules that glittered brassily in +the unwholesome light of the false suns. + +Once more the Indian buried his face in his arms and muffled, moaning +words fell from his lips: "De red death--de white death! It is +_mesahchee tamahnawus_! We die! We die!" + +Again Connie shook him roughly, and meeting with no response, beat his +arms from his face with the loaded butt of his dog whip. + +"You're a crazy fool!" cried the boy, with his lips close to the +Indian's ear. "We're _not_ going to die--anyway, not till we've had a +run for our money! We're going to mush! Do you hear? _Mush!_ And we're +going to keep on mushing till we find that cabin! And if you hang back +or quit, I'm going to wind this walrus hide whip around you till I cut +you in strips--do you get it?" And, without another word, the boy +turned, whipped the dogs to their feet, and leaving the river abruptly, +led off straight into the north across the low, snow-covered ridge. + + * * * * * + +Of the two brothers Bossuet, Victor, the elder, was loved in the North; +and Rene was hated. And the reason for this lay in the men themselves. +Both were rivermen--good rivermen--and both laboured each year during +the long days of the summer months, together with many other rivermen, +in working the Hudson's Bay brigade of scows down the three great +connecting rivers to the frozen sea. For between Athabasca Landing and +Fort McPherson lie two thousand miles of wilderness--a wilderness whose +needs are primitive but imperative, having to do with life and death. +And the supplies for this vast wilderness must go in without fail each +year by the three rivers, the Athabasca, the Slave, and the Mackenzie. +These are not gentle rivers flowing smoothly between their banks, but +are great torrents of turbulent waters that rush wildly into the North +in miles upon miles of foaming white water, in sheer cascades, and in +boiling, rock-ribbed rapids. So that the work of the rivermen is man's +work requiring skill and iron nerve, and requiring also mighty muscles +for the gruelling portages where cargoes must be carried piece by piece +over rough foot trails, and in places even the heavy scows themselves +must be man-hauled around cascades. + +Seeing the two brothers together, the undiscriminating would +unhesitatingly have picked Rene, with his picturesque, gaudy attire, his +loud, ever-ready laughter, his boisterous, bull-throated _chansons_, and +his self-confident air, as the typical man of the North. For beside him +Victor, with faded overalls, his sockless feet thrust into worn shoes, +his torn shirt, and his old black felt hat, cut a sorry figure. + +But those who know recall the time that old Angus Forgan, the drunken +trader of Big Stone, fell out of a scow at the head of the Rapids of the +Drowned. They will tell you that of the twenty rivermen who witnessed +the accident only two dared to attempt a rescue, and those two were Rene +and Victor Bossuet. And that Rene, being the stronger, reached the +struggling man first and, twisting his fingers into his collar, struck +out for a flat shelf of rock that edged the first suck of the rapids. +They will tell you how he reached the rock and, throwing an arm upon its +flat surface, endeavoured to pull himself up; but the grip of the +current upon the two bodies was strong and after two or three attempts +Rene released his grip on the drowning man's collar and clambered to +safety. Then they will tell you how Victor, who had managed to gain +shore when he saw Rene reach the rock, plunged in again, straight into +the roaring chute, of how he reached Forgan in the nick of time, of how +the two bodies disappeared completely from view in the foaming white +water, and of how a quarter of a mile below, by means of Herculean +effort and a bit of luck, Victor managed to gain the eddy of a side +channel where he and his unconscious burden whirled round and round +until the rivermen running along the bank managed to throw a rope and +haul them both to safety. + +Also, they will tell you of Gaspard Petrie, a great hulking bully of a +man, who called himself "The Grizzly of the Athabasca," whose delight it +was to pick fights and to beat his opponents into unconsciousness with +his fists. And of how the mighty Petrie whose ill fame had spread the +length of the three rivers, joined the brigade once at Fort McMurry and +of how the boisterous Rene became the bright and shining mark of his +attentions, and of the fight that sent Rene to the brush before he was +"licked," after which Rene stood the taunts and insults of "The Grizzly +of the Athabasca" for many days like the craven he was, before the eyes +of all men, until one day Petrie used words that brought insult upon the +mother of Rene--who was also the mother of Victor. Rene paid them no +heed but Victor rose from his place beside the fire and slowly removed +his mackinaw and his torn felt hat and, walking over to Petrie, demanded +that he retract the words. "The Grizzly of the Athabasca" eyed him in +astonishment, for Victor had been a figure in the brigade so +insignificant as to have entirely escaped his attention. The ramping one +threw out his huge chest and roared with laughter. "See!" he taunted, +"the weasel defies the bear!" And with that he reached out and with his +thumb and forefinger grasped Victor by the nose and jerked him roughly +toward him. + +The next instant the air rushed from his throat in a grunt of agonized +surprise for the violent jerk on his nose seemed to release steel +springs in Victor's body and before Petrie could release his grip both +of Victor's fists and the heel of one shoe had been driven with all the +force of mighty muscles directly into the bully's stomach. The +unexpected onslaught staggered the huge bully, and then began the fight +that ridded the rivers of Gaspard Petrie. In and out flashed the lighter +man, landing a blow here and a kick there--round and round, and in and +out. "The Grizzly of the Athabasca" roared with rage, and struck mighty +blows that, had they landed, would have annihilated his opponent on the +spot but they did not land. Victor seemed tireless and his blows rained +faster and faster as his opponent's defence became slower and slower. At +last, from sheer exhaustion, the heavy arms could no longer guard the +writhing face and instantly Victor began to rain blow after blow upon +eyes and nose and mouth until a few minutes later "The Grizzly of the +Athabasca" collapsed entirely, and whimpering and puling, he retracted +his words, and then amid the frenzied jeers of the rivermen, he made up +his pack and slunk away into the bush--and the fame of Victor Bossuet +travelled the length of the three rivers. Thus it was that Victor became +known as the better man of the two. But it was in the winning of Helene +Lacompte that he gained his final triumph. Rene had boasted upon the +rivers that he would marry her,--boastings that reached the ears of the +girl in her father's little cabin on Salt River and caused her to smile. +But as she smiled her thoughts were not of Rene and his gaudy clothing, +his famous blue _capote_, his crimson scarf, and his long tasselled cap +of white wool--but of Victor--who spoke seldom, but saved his money each +year and refrained from joining in the roistering drinking bouts of the +rivermen. + +Then one day at Fort Norman in the hearing of all the rivermen Rene +boldly told her that he was coming to take her when the scows returned, +and she laughingly replied that when she changed her name from Lacompte, +she would take the name of Bossuet. Whereat Rene drank deeper, bragged +the more boisterously, and to the envy of all men flaunted his good +fortune before the eyes of the North. But Victor said nothing. He quit +the brigade upon a pretext and when the scows returned Helene bore the +name of Bossuet. For she and Victor had been married by the priest at +the little mission and had gone to build their cabin upon a little +unnamed river well back from the Mackenzie. For during the long winter +months Victor worked hard at his trap lines, while Rene drank and +gambled and squandered his summer wages among the towns of the +provinces. + +When Rene heard of the marriage he swore vengeance, for this thing had +been a sore blow to his pride. All along the three rivers men talked of +it, nor did they hesitate to taunt and make sport of Rene to his face. +He sought to make up in swashbuckling and boasting what he lacked in +courage. So men came to hate him and it became harder and harder for him +to obtain work. At last, in great anger, he quit the brigade altogether +and for two summers he had been seen upon the rivers in a York boat of +his own. The first winter after he left the brigade he spent money in +the towns as usual, so the following summer the source of his income +became a matter of interest to the Mounted Police. Certain of their +findings made it inadvisable for Rene to appear again in the towns, and +that autumn he spent in the outlands, avoiding the posts, stopping a +day here--a week there, in the cabins of obscure trappers and camping +the nights between, for he dared not show his face at any post. Then it +was he bethought himself of his brother's cabin as a refuge and, for the +time being laying aside thoughts of vengeance, he journeyed there. + +He was welcomed by Victor and Helene and by the very small Victor who +was now nearly a year old. Victor and Helene had heard of the threats of +vengeance, but knowing Rene, they had smiled. Was not Rene a great +boaster? And the very young Victor, who knew nothing of the threats, +thought his big uncle a very brave figure in his blue _capote_, his red +muffler, and his white stocking cap of wool. + +Rene worked willingly enough side by side with Victor upon the trap +line, and with the passing of the days the envy of his brother's lot +grew, and in his heart smouldered a sullen rage. Here was Victor, a man +at whom nobody would look twice in passing, happy and contented with his +little family, untroubled by any haunting fear of the hand of the law, +enjoying the respect of all men, and a veritable hero the length of the +three rivers. And beside him, of his own flesh and blood, was himself, +a bold figure of a man, a roisterer and a poser, who had sought to gain +the admiration and respect of the men of the rivers without earning it, +and who had failed--and failed most miserably. The sullen rage grew in +his heart, and he plotted vengeance by the hour--but his hand was stayed +by fear--fear of Victor and fear of the law. + +And so a month passed, and one day as the two brothers finished their +lunch and lighted their pipes upon a log beside a tiny fire, Victor +spoke that which for several days had been passing in his mind: "It has +been good to have you with us, my brother," he began, being a man of +indirect speech. + +"The joy has been all mine, I assure you," replied Rene, wondering what +would come next. + +"But three people eat more than two, and I laid in supplies for two to +last until the holiday trading." + +"I have no money, but I will leave the pay for my keep at Fort Norman +next summer." + +A swift flush of anger reddened the cheek of Victor. "Pay! Who talks of +pay? Think you I would accept pay from my own brother?" + +"What then?" + +"Only this, you must make the trip to Fort Norman for food. I will give +you a note to McTavish, and the stuff will be charged to me. It is three +days travelling light, and four on the return. You can take my dogs. +They know the trail." + +There was a long pause before the younger man spoke. "I cannot go to +Fort Norman. I cannot be seen on the river." + +Victor glanced up in surprise. "Why?" + +Rene shifted uneasily. "The police," he answered. "They think I have +broken their law." + +"Have you?" The older man's eyes were upon him, and Rene groped in his +mind for words. "What if I have?" he blurted. "What was I to do? I +cannot work with the brigade. They will not have me. Because I am a +better man than the rest of them, they are jealous and refuse to work +beside me." Rene rose from the log and began to strut up and down in the +snow, swinging his arms wide and pausing before his brother to tap +himself upon the chest, thrown out so the blue _capote_ swelled like the +breast of a pouter pigeon. "Behold before you one whose excellence in +all things has wrought his ruin. Julius Caesar was such a man, and the +great Napoleon, and I, Rene Bossuet, am the third. All men fear me, and +because of my great skill and prodigious strength, all men hate me. They +refuse to work beside me lest their puny efforts will appear as the work +of children. I am the undisputed king of the rivers. Beside me none----" + +Victor interrupted with a wave of his hand. "Beside you none will work +because of your bragging!" he exclaimed, impatiently. "You are a good +enough riverman when you mind your business, but there are plenty as +good--and some better. What law have you broken?" + +"I have traded _hooch_ upon the rivers." + +"And when you found that the men of the Mounted were upon your trail you +came here," continued the older man. "You thought you would be safe here +because the police, knowing of your loud-bawled threats against me, +would think we were mortal enemies." + +"You knew of that--of my threats?" gasped Rene in surprise, "and you +allowed me to stay!" + +Victor laughed shortly. "Of course I knew. But what are threats between +brothers? I knew they were but the idle boastings of a braggart. You +would not dare harm me, or mine. You are a great coward, Rene, and it is +to laugh and not to fear. You strut about like a cock partridge in the +springtime, you clothe yourself with the feathers of the bluejay, and +speak with the tongue of the great grey wolf but your heart is the heart +of the rabbit. But talk gets us nowhere. We will go to the cabin, now. +In the morning I will start for Fort Norman, and you will remain to look +after Helene and the little Victor." The older man rose and faced his +brother. "And if harm comes to either of them while I am gone _may the +wolves gnaw your bones upon the crust of the snow_. That little cabin +holds all that I love in the world. I never boast, and I never +threaten--nor do I ever repent the work of my hands." He paused and +looked squarely into his brother's eyes, and when he spoke again the +words fell slowly from his lips--one by one, with a tiny silence +between--"_You have heard it, maybe--scarcely disturbing the silence of +the night--that sound of the crunching of bones on the snow._" A hand of +ice seemed to reach beneath Rene's blue _capote_ and fasten upon his +heart, there came a strange prickling at the roots of his hair, and +little chills shot along his spine. Somewhere back in the forest a tree +exploded with the frost, and Rene jumped, nervously. Then, side by side, +the brothers made their way to the cabin in silence. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AT THE END OF RENE'S TRAIL + + +The ridge up which Connie Morgan laboured at the head of his dogs was a +sparsely timbered slope which terminated in a rounded crest a mile away. +To the boy that smoothly rolling sky line looked ten miles ahead of him. +No breath of wind stirred the stinging dead air. His snowshoes became +great weights upon his feet which sought to drag him down, down into +immeasurable depths of soft warm snow. The slope which in reality was a +very easy grade assumed the steepness of a mountain side. He wanted +above all things to sleep. He glanced backward. 'Merican Joe's team had +stopped, and the Indian was fumbling listlessly with his pack. Halting +his own dogs, the boy hastened back. The effort taxed his strength to +the limit. His heavy whiplash swished through the air, and 'Merican Joe +straightened up with a howl of pain. + +"Come on!" cried Connie, as he prepared to strike again. "That cabin's +only just over the ridge, and if you stop here you'll freeze!" + +"No use," mumbled the Indian. "De red death--de white death. We goin' +die annyhow. Me--I'm lak I'm sleep." + +"You mush!" ordered the boy. "Get up there and take my dogs and I'll +take yours. No more laying down on the job or I'll lay on this whip in +earnest. If we mush we'll be there in an hour--_Skookum_ Injun! Where's +your nerve?" + +'Merican Joe smiled. "_Skookum tillicum_," he muttered gravely, pointing +his mittened hand toward the boy. "Me I'm go 'long wit' you till I die. +We mak' her, now. We speet on de _kultus tamahnawus_ in hees face!" + +"You bet we will!" cried the boy. "Get up there now, and keep those dogs +moving. I'll follow along with yours." + +A half hour later the two stood side by side upon the crest of the ridge +and looked down into the valley. Both were breathing heavily. Each had +fallen time out of number, but each time had scrambled to his feet and +urged on his dogs. As they stood now with the false suns dancing above +them, the cold seemed to press upon them like a thing of weight. Connie +glanced at his thermometer. It had dropped forty degrees! Across a half +mile of snow they could see the little cabin in the edge of the timber. +Only, now the smoke did not rise from the chimney but poured from its +mouth and fell heavily to the roof where it rolled slowly to the ground. +Motioning with his arm, 'Merican Joe led off down the slope and Connie +followed, holding weakly to the tail rope of his toboggan. The going was +easier than the ascent had been, but the "strong cold" seemed to strike +to the very bone. After what seemed hours, the boy found himself before +the door of the cabin. Beside him 'Merican Joe was bending over +unharnessing the dogs. Connie stooped to look at the thermometer. +"Seventy-two below!" he muttered, "and she only goes to seventy-six!" + +Frantically the boy worked helping 'Merican Joe to unharness the dogs +and when the last one was freed he opened the door and, closely followed +by the Indian, stumbled into the cabin. + +The next thing Connie knew he was lying on a bunk and a woman was seated +beside him holding a spoon to his lips while she supported his head on +her arm. The boy swallowed and a spoonful of hot liquid trickled down +his throat. He felt warm, and comfortable, and drowsy--so drowsy that it +was with an effort that he managed to swallow other spoonfuls of the hot +liquid. Slowly he opened his eyes and then struggled to a sitting +posture. 'Merican Joe sat upon the floor with his back against the log +wall. He became conscious of a stinging sensation in his face and he +prodded his cheek with an inquisitive finger. + +The woman noticed the action. "It is not bad," she explained. "Your nose +and your cheeks they were frozen but I thawed them out with the snow." +Suddenly her expression changed and a look of fear haunted her eyes. She +pointed toward the door. "But--what is it--out there? The sky is all +wrong. There are no clouds, yet it is not blue, and there are many suns +that move and jump about. It is a time of great evil. Did you not see +the plague flag? And my man is away. Maybe it is the end of all things. +I am afraid. Why are there many suns?" + +"It is the white death," answered the boy. "You needn't fear. Only stay +in the house and don't breathe the outside air. I have seen it once +before. Tonight will come the northern lights and they will hiss and pop +and snap. And they will be so bright it will look like the whole world +is on fire. Then the wind will come, and tomorrow it will be gone, and +everything will be the same as before." + +"I have heard of the white death," said the woman. "My father and some +of the old men have seen it--beyond Bear Lake. My father and some of the +others crawled under their blankets and lay for more than a day but some +of the old men died." + +The thin wail of an infant sounded from a pole crib at the other end of +the room, and the woman rose quickly and crossed to its side. Connie saw +her stoop over the crib and mutter soft, crooning words, as she patted +the tiny bed clothing with her hand. The wailing ceased, and the woman +tiptoed back to his side. "It is the little Victor," she explained, and +Connie noticed that her eyes were wet with tears. Suddenly she broke +down and covered her face with her hands while her body swayed to and +fro. "Oh, my little man! My little soft baby! He must die--or be +terribly scarred by the hand of the red death! So beautiful--so little, +and so good, and so beautiful! And I have nothing to feed him, for Rene +has taken the milk. Rene is a devil! I would have killed him but he took +the gun." The woman stopped speaking, and the silence of the little +cabin was punctuated by the sound of her muffled sobs. + +Connie felt a strange lump rising in his throat. He swallowed and +attempted to speak, but the result was a funny noise way back in his +throat. He swallowed several times and when he finally spoke his voice +sounded hard and gruff. "Quit crying, mam, and help me get this +straight. I don't believe your little kid's got the smallpox." He paused +and glanced about the room. "This ain't the kind of a place he'd get +it--it's too clean. Who told you it was the red death?" + +"Oh, no one told me! Who is there to tell? Rene is a liar, and my man +has gone to Fort Norman. But," she leaped to her feet and regarded +Connie with a tense, eager look, "can it be that you are a doctor?" The +next instant she turned away. "No--you are but a boy!" + +"No," repeated Connie, "I am not a doctor. But I used to be in the +Mounted and I learned all there was in the manual about smallpox and +I've seen a good deal of it. What makes you think it's smallpox?" + +"I have seen, on his little chest--the red blotches. What else could it +be?" + +"How long has he been sick?" + +"Since day before yesterday." + +"Did he have any fits? Did he vomit? Did he run up a high fever?" + +"No--none of these things. But he has not wanted much to eat--and on his +chest are the blotches." + +"Let's look at 'em." + +The woman led the way to the crib and lifting the baby from it, bared +his chest. Connie examined the red marks minutely. He felt of them with +his fingers, and carefully examined the forehead along the roots of the +hair. Then he turned to the woman with a smile. "Put him back," he said +quietly. "He's a buster of a kid, all right--and he ain't got smallpox. +He'll be well as ever in three or four days. He's got chicken pox--" + +The woman clutched at his arm and her breath came fast. "Are you sure?" +she cried, a great hope dawning in her eyes. "How can you tell?" + +"It's all in the manual. Smallpox pimples feel hard, like shot, and +they come first on the face and forehead, and there is always high fever +and vomiting, and the pimples are always round. This is chicken pox, and +it ain't dangerous, and I told you I used to be with the Mounted, and +the Mounted is always sure. Now, what about this Rainy person that stole +the little kid's milk?" But the woman was paying no attention. She was +pacing up and down the floor with the baby hugged to her +breast--laughing, crying, talking to the little one all in the same +breath, holding him out at arm's length and then cuddling him close and +smothering him with kisses. Then, suddenly, she laid the baby in his +crib and turned to Connie who, in view of what he had seen, backed away +in alarm until he stood against the door. + +"Ah, you are the grand boy!" the woman exclaimed. "You have saved the +life of my little Victor! You are my friend. In four days comes my +man--the little one's papa, and he will tell you better than I of our +thanks. He is your friend for life. He is Victor Bossuet, and on the +rivers is none like him. I will tell him all--how the little one is +dying with the red death, and you come out of the strong cold with the +frost in the nose and the cheeks, and you look on the little Victor who +is dying, and say '_non_,' and pouf! the red death is gone, and the +little baby has got only what you call chickiepok! See! Even now he is +laughing!" + +"He's all right," smiled Connie. "But you're way off about my curing +him. He'd have been well as ever in a few days anyhow and you'd have had +your scare for nothing." + +The woman's voluble protest was interrupted by a wail from the infant, +and again her mood changed and she began to pace the floor wringing her +hands. "See, now he is hungry and there is nothing to feed him! Rene is +a devil! He has taken the milk." + +"Hold on!" interrupted Connie. "Was it canned milk? 'Cause if it was you +don't need to worry. I've got about a dozen cans out there on the +toboggan. Wait and I'll get it." He turned to the Indian who had been a +silent onlooker. "Come on, Joe, crawl into your outfit. While I get the +grub and blankets off the toboggans, you rustle the wood and water--and +go kind of heavy on the wood, 'cause, believe me, there ain't any +thermometer going to tell us how cold it will get tonight." + +A quarter of an hour later Connie dragged in a heavy canvas sack and +two rolls of blankets just as 'Merican Joe stacked his last armful of +wood high against the wall. "I fed the dogs," said the boy as he +rummaged in the bag and handed the cans of milk one by one to the woman, +"and I could tell your husband is an old-timer by the looks of his dog +shelter--warm and comfortable, and plenty of room for two teams. I can +find out all I want to know about a man by the way he uses his dogs." + +"He is the best man on the rivers," repeated the woman, her eyes +shining, as she opened a can of milk, carefully measured an amount, +added water, and stirred it as it heated on the stove. Connie watched +with interest as she fed it to the baby from a spoon. "Again you have +saved his life," she said, as the last spoonful disappeared between the +little lips. + +"Aw, forget that!" exclaimed the boy, fidgeting uncomfortably. "What I +want is the dope on this Rainy--how did he come to swipe the kid's milk? +And where is he heading for? I'm in something of a hurry to get to Fort +Norman, but I've got a hunch I'm due for a little side trip. He ain't +going to be far ahead of me tomorrow. If he holes up today and tonight +I'll catch up with him along about noon--and if he don't hole up--the +white death will save me quite a bit of trouble." + +"Ah, that Rene!" exclaimed the woman, her face darkling with passion, +"he is Victor's brother, and he is no good. He drinks and gambles and +makes the big noise with his mouth. Bou, wou, wou! I am the big man! I +can do this! I can do that! I am the best man in the world! Always he +has lived in the towns in the winter and spent his money but this winter +he came and lived with us because his money was gone. That is all right +he is the brother of my husband. He is welcome. But one does not have to +like him. But when my husband tells him to go to Fort Norman for food +because we did not know there would be three, he made excuse, and my +husband went and Rene stayed. Then the next day the little Victor was +sick, and I saw the hand of the red death upon him and I told Rene that +he should run fast after Victor and tell him. But he would not! He swore +and cursed at his own ill luck and he ran from the house into the woods. +I made the plague flag and hung it out so that no traveller should come +in and be in danger of the red death. + +"By and by Rene came in from the woods in a terrible rage. He began to +pack his outfit for the trail and I stayed close by the side of my +little one for fear Rene would do him harm in his anger. At last he was +ready and I was glad to see him go. I looked then and saw that he had +taken all the food! Even the baby's milk he had taken! I rushed upon him +then, but I am a woman and no match for a big man like Rene, and he +laughed and pushed me away. I begged him to leave me some food, and he +laughed the more--and on my knees I implored him to leave the baby's +milk. But he would not. He said he had sworn vengeance upon Victor, and +now he would take vengeance. He said, 'The brat will not need the milk +for he will die anyway, and you will die, and Victor will follow me, and +I will lead him to a place I know, and then he will die also.' It was +then I rushed for the gun, but Rene had placed it in his pack. And I +told him he must not go from a plague house, for he would spread the +terrible red death in all the North. But he laughed and said he would +show the North that he, Rene Bossuet, was a god who could spread death +along the rivers. He would cause it to sweep like a flame among the +rivermen who hated him, and among the men of the Mounted." + +The woman paused and Connie saw that a look of wonderful contentment had +come into her eyes. + +"The good God did not listen to the curses of Rene," she said, simply, +"for as I lay on the floor I prayed to Him and He sent you to me, +straight out of the frozen places where in the winter no men are. Tell +me, did not the good God tell you to come to me--to save the little +baby's life?" There was a look of awed wonder in the woman's eyes, and +suddenly Connie remembered the mirage with the blazing plague flag in +the sky. + +"Yes," he answered, reverently, "I guess maybe He did." + +That night the wind came, the aurora flashed and hissed in the heavens, +and early in the morning when Connie opened the door the air was alive +with the keen tang of the North. Hastily he made up his pack for the +trail. Most of the grub he left behind, and when the woman protested he +laughed, and lied nobly, in that he told her that they had far too much +grub for their needs. While 'Merican Joe looked solemnly on and said +nothing. + +With the blessing of the woman ringing in their ears they started on the +trail of Rene Bossuet. When they were out of sight of the cabin, the +Indian halted and looked straight into the boy's eyes. + +"We have one day's grub, for a three-day's trail if we hit straight for +Fort Norman," he announced. "Why then do we follow this man's trail? He +has done nothing to us! Why do you always take upon yourself the +troubles of others?" + +"Where would _you_ have been if I didn't?" flashed the boy angrily. "And +where would the trapper have been and that woman and little baby? When I +first struck Alaska I was just a little kid with torn clothes and only +eight dollars and I thought I didn't have a friend in the world. And +then, at Anvik, I found that every one of the big men of the North was +my friend! And ever since that time I have been trying to pay back the +debt I owe the men of the North--and I'll keep on trying till I die!" + +With a shrug 'Merican Joe started his dogs and took up the trail. Two +hours later Connie took the lead, and pointed to the tracks in the snow. +"He's slowing up," he exclaimed. "If we don't strike his camp within a +half an hour, we'll strike--something else!" + +A few minutes later both halted abruptly. Before them was a wide place +in the snow that had been trampled by many feet--the soft padded feet of +the wolf pack. A toboggan, with its pack still securely lashed, stood at +the end of Rene Bossuet's trail. Small scraps of leather showed where +the dogs had been torn from the harness. Connie closed his eyes and +pictured to himself what had happened there, in the night, in the sound +of the roaring wind, and in the changing lights of the brilliantly +flashing aurora. Then he opened his eyes and stepped out into the +trampled space and gazed thoughtfully down upon the few scattered bits +that lay strewn about upon the snow--a grinning skull, deeply gored here +and there with fang marks, the gnawed ends of bones, and here and there +ravellings and tiny patches of vivid blue cloth. And as he fastened the +toboggan behind his own and swung the dogs onto the back-trail, he +paused once more and smiled grimly: + +"He had always lived in the North," he said, "but he didn't know the +North. He ran like the coward he was from the red death when there was +no danger. And not only that, but he stole the food from a woman and a +sick baby. He thought he could get away with it--'way up here. But +there's something in the silent places that men don't understand--and +never will understand. I've heard men speak of it. And now I have seen +it--the working of the justice of the North!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +AT FORT NORMAN + + +No trading post in all the North is more beautifully situated than Fort +Norman. The snug buildings of the Hudson's Bay Company and the Northern +Trading Company are located upon a high bank, at the foot of which the +mighty Mackenzie rushes northward to the frozen sea. On a clear day the +Rocky Mountains are plainly visible, and a half mile below the post, +Bear River, the swift running outlet to Great Bear Lake, flows into the +Mackenzie. It is to Fort Norman that the Indians from up and down the +great river, from the mountains to the westward, and from Great Bear +Lake, and a thousand other lakes and rivers, named and unnamed, to the +eastward, come each year to trade their furs. And it was there that +Connie Morgan and 'Merican Joe arrived just thirty-seven days after they +pulled out of Dawson. + +Except at the time of the holiday trading, winter visitors are few at +the isolated post, and the two were heartily welcomed by the agents of +the rival trading companies, and by the two priests of the little Roman +Catholic Mission. + +Connie learned from the representatives of both companies that from all +indications fur would be plentiful that year, but both expressed doubt +that Fort Norman would get its share of the trading. + +"It's this way," explained McTavish, a huge, bearded Scot, as they sat +about the fur trader's roaring stove upon the evening of their arrival. +"The mountain Indians--the moose eaters, from the westward--are trading +on the Yukon. They claim they get better prices over there an' maybe +they do. The Yukon traders get the goods into the country cheaper, an' +they could sell them cheaper, an' I ain't blamin' the Indians for +tradin' where they can do best. But, now comes reports of a free trader +that has trailed up the Coppermine from the coast to trade amongst the +caribou eaters to the eastward. If that's so--an' he gets 'em to trade +with him--God help those Indians along towards spring." + +The man relapsed into silence and Connie grinned to himself. "They've +had it all their way up here for so long it makes them mad if anybody +else comes in for a share of their profits," thought the boy. Aloud, he +asked innocently: + +"What's the matter with the free traders?" + +McTavish frowned, and Berl Hansen, the Dane who managed the affairs of +the Northern Trading Company's post, laughed harshly. + +"Go down along the railroads, boy," he said, "if you want to see the +handiwork of the free traders, an' look at the Indians that has dealt +with 'em. You can see 'em hanging around them railroad towns, that was +once posts where they handled good clean furs. Them Injuns an' their +fathers before 'em was good trappers--an' look at 'em now!" + +"Yes," interrupted Connie, "but they are the victims of the bootleggers +and the whiskey runners! How about the free trader that won't handle +liquor?" + +"There ain't no such a free trader!" exclaimed Hansen, angrily. "They're +a pack of lying, thievin'----" + +"There, there, Berl, lad!" rumbled McTavish, checking the irate Dane, +who had fairly launched upon his favourite theme. "Ye're right, in the +main--but the lad's question was a fair one an' deserves a fair answer. +I'm an older man, an' I've be'n thirty years in the service of the +Company. Let me talk a bit, for there are a few traders that for aught I +know are honest men an' no rum peddlers. But, there's reasons why they +don't last long." The old Scotchman paused, whittled deliberately at his +plug tobacco, and filled his pipe. "It's this way," he began. "We'll +suppose this trader over on the Coppermine is a legitimate trader. We +will handle his case fairly, an' to do that we must consider first the +Hudson's Bay Company. For two hundred an' fifty years we have been +traders of the North--we know the needs of the North--an' we supply +them. The Indian's interests are our interests, and we trade nothing but +the best goods. For two centuries an' a half we have studied the North +and we have dealt fairly. And may I say here," with a glance toward +Hansen, "that there are several other companies with sound financial +backing and established posts that have profited by our experience and +also supply only the best of goods, and deal fairly. With them we have +no quarrel--honest competition, of course, we have--but no quarrel. +Comes now the free trader. He is a man of small capital. His goods are +cheap, they are of inferior quality. He cannot give 'debt,' as the +credit of the North is called. He cannot carry a large number of Indians +for six months or a year as we do. If he attempts it, his creditors +press him and he goes to the wall--or the Indians find out before time +for payment comes that the goods are inferior, and they repudiate their +debt. It is bad all around--bad for the Indians, bad for the free +traders, and bad for us----" + +"I should think it would be good for you," interrupted Connie. + +The factor shook his head: "I told you the Indians' interests are our +interests. I will show you. Take it at this very post. We will suppose +that the beaver are becoming scarce around here; what do we do? We say +to the Indians, 'Do not kill any beaver this year and next year.' And +they obey us--why? Because we will not buy any beaver here during that +time. They will not kill what they cannot sell. Then, when the beavers +have become numerous again, we resume trade in them. Were it not for +this policy, many fur-bearing animals that once were numerous would now +be extinct. + +"But--suppose there are free traders in the country--we will pay nothing +for beavers, so they begin to buy them cheap--they can name their own +price, and the Indians will keep on killing them. The Indian says: 'It +is better that I should sell this beaver now at six skins than that my +neighbour should sell him in two years at twelve skins.' Then, soon, +there are no more beavers left in that part of the country. Another +thing, in the fur posts our word is law. We tell the Indians when they +can begin to take fur, and when they must stop. The result is we handle +only clean, prime pelts with the flesh side white as paper. With the +free trader a pelt is a pelt, prime or unprime, it makes no difference. +So the killing goes merrily on where the free traders are--and soon all +the fur-bearing animals are exterminated from that section. What does +the free trader care? He loads his fly-by-night outfit into canoes or a +York boat, and passes on to lay waste another section, leaving the poor +Indians to face the rigours of the coming winter with ruined credit, +cheap, inadequate clothing, cheap food, and worthless trinkets, and +their hunting grounds barren of game." + +"But," objected Connie, "suppose a free trader dealt in goods as good as +yours----" + +McTavish laughed. "I have yet to see that trader in thirty years' +experience. Admit that his goods did measure up to our standard. What +would he have to charge for them? We buy in vast quantities--in some +cases we take the entire output of factories, and we have an established +system of transportation to get it into the wilds. No free trader can +compete with us--cost plus freight would ruin him, especially as he must +allow the Indians a debt." + +"How much debt do they get?" + +"That depends upon several things. First of all upon the Indian--his +reputation for honesty, and his reputation as a hunter. It also depends +upon the size of his family, the distance of his hunting ground from the +post, and his general prospects for the season. It varies from one +hundred to five or six hundred, and in exceptional cases even to a +thousand skins." + +"What do you mean by a skin?" + +"A skin," explained McTavish, "is our unit of trade. Instead of saying +a certain thing is worth so many dollars, we say it is worth so many +'skins' or 'made beaver.'. At this post the value of the made beaver is +a half-dollar." The factor opened a drawer and drew forth a handful of +brass tokens which he handed to Connie for inspection. "These are skins, +or made beaver. We offer an Indian so many skins for his pack of furs. +He has little idea of what we mean when we tell him he has five hundred +skins' worth of fur, so we count out five hundred of these made +beaver--he can see them, can feel them--the value of his catch is +immediately reduced to something concrete--something he can +understand--then we take away the amount of his debt, and if there are +still some made beaver remaining, he knows he has something left over to +spend for finery and frippery. Rarely does he use these extra skins for +the purchase of food or necessary clothing--he contracts a new debt for +that. But, wait till spring when the Indians come in, and you will +witness the trading for yourself. It is then you will see why it is that +the free trader has small chance of doing business at a profit north of +sixty." + +"But, why wouldn't it be just as easy to figure it in dollars?" asked +the boy. + +McTavish laughed. "There were several reasons, although, with the +government paying treaty in cash nowadays, the Indians are beginning to +know something of money. But the main reason is that when the made +beaver was first invented, no one seems to know just when or where or by +whom, there was no money in the country--everything was traded or +bartered for some other thing. And because the skin, and particularly +the beaver skin, was the thing most bartered by Indians, the unit of +value came to be known as a 'skin' or 'made beaver.' Another reason why +money has never been popular with us is because of its destructibility. +Take this post, for instance. Suppose we were compelled to ship silver +dollars back and forth between here and Edmonton? Ten thousand of them +would weigh close to six hundred pounds! Six hundred pounds would mean, +on scows, six pieces--and mighty valuable pieces too, to be loaded and +unloaded a dozen times, carried over portages, shot through dangerous +rapids, carried up and down slippery river banks and across slippery +planks to the scows. Suppose one of these pieces were dropped overboard +by one of the none too careful half-breed rivermen? The Company would +lose just so many dollars. Or, suppose the riverman very conveniently +dropped the piece into the water where he could recover it again? A +dollar is a dollar--it can be spent anywhere. But suppose that the piece +contained only a supply of these brass 'made beaver'--the whole ten +thousand would only make one piece--and if it dropped into the river the +Company would lose only so much brass. Then if the riverman afterward +recovered it, instead of finding himself possessed of dollars which he +could spend anywhere, he would only have a hundred pounds or so of brass +tokens whose value had been cancelled. And, again, the expense of +transportation, even granted the consignment arrived safely at its +destination, would be against the dollar. One hundred pounds, where +freight costs sixteen cents a pound to move, is much cheaper to move +than six hundred pounds." + +"Yes," agreed Connie, "but how about using paper money?" + +"Worse, and more of it!" exclaimed McTavish. "In the first place the +piece, or package, would be lighter and of greater value--therefore +much easier to make away with. Some lone bandit, or gang of bandits, +might find it well worth their while to hold up the scow brigade and +make off with that little piece. And, besides, until very recently, the +Indians have had no sense of the value of paper money. An Indian cannot +see why one piece of paper should be worth five dollars, and another +exactly like it in size and colour should be worth ten, or twenty, or +fifty--and another piece of paper be worth nothing at all. I am sure no +one at the posts would welcome the carrying on of business upon a cash +basis--I know I should not. The Canadian North is the cleanest land in +the world, in so far as robbery is concerned, thanks to the Mounted. But +with its vast wilderness for hiding places and its lack of quick +transportation and facility for spreading news, I am afraid it would not +long remain so, if it became known that every trading post possessed its +cash vault. As it is, the goods of the North, in a great measure, +protect themselves from theft by their very bulk. A man could hardly +expect to get out of this country, for instance, with even a very few +packs of stolen fur. The Mounted would have him before he could get +half way to the railroad." + +"It seems funny," grinned Connie, "to find an outfit that doesn't like +to do business for cash!" + +"Funny enough, till you know the reason--then, the most natural thing in +the world. And, there is yet one more reason--take the treaty money. The +Indians bring the treaty money to us and buy goods with it. We make the +profit on the goods--but if they had bought those same goods for fur--we +would have made the profit on the fur, also--and primarily, we are a fur +company--although every year we are becoming more and more of a trading +company and a land company. I am glad I shall not live to see the last +of the fur trade--I love the fur--it speaks a language I know." + +A short time later the company broke up, Berl Hansen returned to his own +quarters, and Connie and 'Merican Joe were given the spare room in the +factor's house where for the first time since leaving Dawson they slept +under a roof. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BAIT--AND A BEAR + + +The business of outfitting for the balance of the winter occupied two +whole days and when it was finished down to the last item Connie viewed +the result with a frown. "It's going to take two trips to pack all that +stuff. And by the time we make two trips and build a cabin besides, we +won't have much time left for trapping." + +"Where you headin' for?" queried McTavish. + +"Somewhere over on the Coppermine," answered the boy. "I don't know just +where--and I guess it don't make much difference." + +The big Scotchman laughed. "No, lad, it won't make no great difference. +What put it in your head to trap on the Coppermine?" + +"Why, the truth is, it isn't so much the trapping I'm interested in. I +want to try my hand at prospecting over there." + +"Gold?" + +"Yes--mainly." + +McTavish shook his head forebodingly. + +Connie smiled. "You don't believe there's any gold there?" he asked. +"'Gold's where you find it,' you know." + +"There must be lots of it there, then. Nobody's ever found it. But, it's +a bad time of year to be hittin' for the Coppermine country. It's bleak, +an' barren, an' storm ridden. An' as for trappin' you'll find nothin' +there to trap but foxes this time of year, an' you won't be able to do +any prospectin' till summer. You might better trap in closer to the post +this winter, an' when the lake opens you can take a York boat an' a +canoe an' cover most of the distance by water." + +Connie frowned. "I started out for the Coppermine," he began, but the +factor interrupted him with a gesture. + +"Sure you did--an' you'll get there, too. It's this way, lad. You're a +sourdough, all right, I knew that the minute I saw you. An' bein' a +sourdough, that way, you ain't goin' to do nothin' that it ain't in +reason to do. There's a deal of difference between a determination to +stick to a thing an' see it through in the face of all odds when the +thing you're stickin' to is worth doin'; an' stickin' to a thing that +ain't worth doin' out of sheer stubbornness. The first is a fine thing +an' the second is a foolish thing to do." + +"I guess that's right," agreed Connie, after a moment of silence. + +"Of course it's right!" interrupted McTavish. "You ought to find a good +trappin' ground down along the south shore, somewheres between the +Blackwater and Lake Ste. Therese. Ought to be plenty of caribou in there +too, an' what with droppin' a few nets through the ice, an' what you can +bring in with your rifles you won't need to draw in your belts none." + +"How far is it from here?" asked the boy. + +"Not over a hundred an' fifty miles at the outside, an' if you'll wait +around a couple of days, there'll be some of the Bear Lake Indians in +with some fish from the Fisheries. They're due now. You can hire them +for guides. They'll be bringin' down a couple of tons of fish, so +they'll have plenty sled room so you can make it in one trip." + +And so it was decided that Connie and 'Merican Joe should winter +somewhere on the south shore of Great Bear Lake, and for a certain band +of Indians that had established their camp upon the river that flows +from Lake Ste. Therese into the extreme point of McVicker Bay, it was +well they did. + +The Bear Lake Indians appeared the following day, delivered their fish +at the post, and Connie employed two of them with their dog teams to +make the trip. The journey was uneventful enough, with only one storm to +break the monotony of steady trailing with the thermometer at forty and +even fifty below--for the strong cold had settled upon the Northland in +earnest. + +Upon the sixth day 'Merican Joe halted the outfit upon the shore of a +little lake which lay some five miles from the south shore of Keith Bay. +"Build camp here," he said, indicating a low knoll covered with a dense +growth of spruce. Connie paid off the guides with an order on the +Hudson's Bay Company, and hardly had they disappeared before he and +'Merican Joe were busy clearing away the snow and setting up the tent +that was to serve as temporary quarters until the tiny cabin that would +be their winter home could be completed. + +The extra sled provided by the Indians, and the fact that they were to +go only a comparatively short distance from the post, had induced Connie +to add to his outfit a few conveniences that would have been entirely +out of the question had he insisted in pushing on to the Coppermine. +There was a real sheet iron stove with several lengths of pipe, a double +window--small to be sure, but provided with panes of glass--and enough +planking for a small sized door and door frame. Although the snow all +about them showed innumerable tracks of the fur bearers, the two paid no +attention to them until the cabin stood finished in its tiny clearing. +And a snug little cabin it was, with its walls banked high with snow, +its chinks all sealed with water-soaked snow that froze hard the moment +it was in place, and its roof of small logs completely covered with a +thick layer of the same wind-proof covering. + +On the morning following the completion of the cabin Connie and 'Merican +Joe ate their breakfast by candlelight. Connie glanced toward the pile +of steel traps of assorted sizes that lay in the corner. "We'll be +setting them today, Joe. The fox tracks are thick all along the lake, +and yesterday I saw where a big lynx had prowled along the edge of that +windfall across the coulee." + +'Merican Joe smiled. "Firs' we got to git de bait. Dat ain' no good we +set de trap wit'out no bait." + +"What kind of bait? And where do we get it?" asked the boy. + +"Mos' any kin'--rabbit, bird, caribou, moose. Today we set 'bout wan +hondre snare for de rabbit. We tak' de leetle gun 'long, mebbe-so we git +de shot at de ptarmigan." + +"Why can't we take a few fox traps with us? We could bait 'em with +bacon, or a piece of fish." + +"No, dat ain' no good for ketch de fox. Dat leetle fox she too mooch +smart. She hard to trap. She ain' goin' fool wit' bacon an' fish. She +stick out de nose an' smell de man-smell on de bacon an' she laugh an' +run away. Same lak de fish--she say: 'De fish b'long in de wataire. How +he git t'rough de ice an' sit on de snow, eh?' An' den she run 'way an' +laugh som' mor'. We ain' goin' trap no fox yet annyhow. Novembaire, she +mos' gon'. Decembaire we trap de marten an' de _loup cervier_. In +Janueer de marten curl up in de stump an' sleep. Den we trap de fox. She +ain' so smart den--she too mooch hongre." + +At daylight the two started, 'Merican Joe leading the way to a dense +swamp that stretched from the lake shore far inland. Once in the thicket +the Indian showed Connie how to set snares along the innumerable +runways, or well-beaten paths of the rabbits, and how to secure each +snare to the end of a bent sapling, or tossing pole, which, when +released by the struggles of the rabbit from the notch that held it +down, would spring upright and jerk the little animal high out of reach +of the forest prowlers. During the forenoon Connie succeeded in shooting +four of the big white snowshoe rabbits, and at the noon camp 'Merican +Joe skinned these, being careful to leave the head attached to the skin. + +"I didn't know rabbit skins were worth saving," said Connie, as the +Indian placed them together with the carcasses in the pack. + +"You wait--by-m-by I show you somet'ing," answered the Indian. And it +was not long after the snare setting had been resumed that Connie +learned the value of the rabbit skins. As they worked deeper into the +swamp, lynx, or _loup cervier_ tracks became more numerous. Near one of +the runways 'Merican Joe paused, drew a skin from his pack, and +proceeded to stuff it with brush. When it had gained something the shape +of the rabbit, he placed it in a natural position beneath the +low-hanging branches of a young spruce and proceeded to set a heavier +snare with a larger loop. The setting of this snare was slightly +different from the setting of the rabbit snares, for instead of a +tossing pole the snare was secured to the middle of a clog, or stout +stick about two inches in diameter and four feet long. The ends of this +clog were then supported upon two forked sticks in such manner that the +snare hung downward where it was secured in position by tying the loop +to a light switch thrust into the snow at either side. The snare was set +only a foot or two from the stuffed rabbit skin and sticks and brush so +arranged that in order to reach the rabbit the lynx must leap straight +into the snare. The remaining rabbit skins were similarly used during +the afternoon, as were the skins of two ptarmigan that Connie managed to +bring down. + +"Use de skin for bait de _loup cervier_, an' de meat for bait de +marten--dat de bes' way," explained 'Merican Joe, as they worked their +way toward the edge of the swamp after the last snare had been set. + +[Illustration: "The snare was set only a foot or two from the stuffed +rabbit skin and sticks and brush so arranged that in order to reach the +rabbit the lynx must leap straight into the snare." + +Drawn by Frank E. Schoonover] + +The early darkness was already beginning to fall when Connie stopped +suddenly and stared down at the snow at the base of a huge mass of earth +and moss that had been thrown upward by the roots of a fallen tree. The +thing that caught the boy's attention was a round hole in the snow--a +hole hardly larger in diameter than a silver quarter, and edged with a +lacy filigree of frost spicules. The boy called to 'Merican Joe who had +paused to refasten the thongs of his rackets. At the first glance the +Indian's eyes lighted: + +"Bear in dere!" he exclaimed. "We dig um out. We git plenty meat--plenty +bait--an' de good skin besides." + +"Hadn't we better wait till tomorrow and bring the heavy rifle?" Connie +asked. "We can't kill a bear with this dinky little twenty-two." + +"We ain' need no gun. Me--I cut de good stout club, an' you tak' de ax. +De bear she too mooch sleepy to do no fightin'. Den we git de toboggan +an' haul um in. We only 'bout wan half-mile from camp. Tomor' we got +plenty bait, we set de marten trap. We skin de bear tonight we save wan +whole day." As he talked, the Indian felled a small birch and trimmed +about five feet of its trunk which measured about two inches and a half +in thickness. "Dat fix um good, an' den we cut de t'roat," he explained, +brandishing the club in the air. + +"I don't know," replied Connie, dubiously. "Waseche and I have killed +several bears, and there was a time or two when a couple of good +thirty-forty's came near not being big enough." + +'Merican Joe grinned. "Dat was grizzlies. I ain' t'ink de grizzly com' +so far from de montaine. Dis leetle black bear, she ain' lak to fight +mooch." + +"I hope you're right," grinned the boy, as he fell to work helping the +Indian to trample the snow into good solid footing for a space of ten +feet or more about the airhole. This done, they removed snowshoes and +coats and with ax and pole attacked the snow that covered their quarry. + +"I feel um!" cried the Indian, as he thrust his pole deep into the snow +after five minutes of hard work. "We wake um up firs', an' when he stick +out de head we bang um good." 'Merican Joe continued to ram his pole +into the snow where he had felt the yielding mass of the bear's body, +all the time haranguing the bear in jargon, addressing him as "cousin," +and inviting him to come out and be killed, and in the same breath +apologizing for the necessity of taking his life. + +Then--very suddenly--"cousin" came out! There was a mighty upheaval of +snow, a whistling snort, and a mountain of brown fur projected itself +into the rapidly gathering dusk. 'Merican Joe struck valiantly with his +club at the monstrous head that in the half-light seemed to Connie to +measure two feet between the ears. The boy heard the sharp crack of the +weapon as it struck the skull, and the next instant he heard the club +crashing through the limbs of a small spruce. The infuriated bear had +caught it fairly with a sweep of his giant paw. Then Connie struck with +his ax, just as 'Merican Joe, with the bear almost upon him, scrambled +into the branches of a tree. The boy's blow fell upon the bear's hip, +and with a roar the great brute whirled to meet the new attack as Connie +gathered himself to strike again. + +Then, a very fortunate thing happened. When 'Merican Joe had removed his +snowshoes he had stuck them upright in the snow and hung his coat over +them. The figure thus formed caught the bear's attention, and with a +lurch he was upon it. There was a crackling of ash bows as the +snowshoes were crushed in the ponderous embrace. And, seeing his chance, +Connie darted forward, for the momentum of the bear's lurch had carried +him on to all fours in the soft snow at the edge of the trampled space. +As the huge animal struggled, belly deep, the boy brought the bit of his +ax down with all his force upon the middle of the brute's spine. The +feel of the blow was good as the keen blade sank to the helve. The next +instant the ax was jerked from his hands and the boy turned to collide +with 'Merican Joe, who had recovered his club and was rushing in to +renew the attack. Both went sprawling upon the trodden snow, and before +they could recover their feet the bear was almost upon them. They sprang +clear, the Indian waiting with upraised club, but the bear advanced +slowly, ripping and tearing at the snow with his huge forepaws with +their claws as long as a man's fingers. Down came the Indian's club upon +the broad skull, but there was no rearing upward to ward off the blow, +and then it was that both saw that the animal was dragging its useless +hinder part. Connie's ax had severed the animal's backbone, and so long +as they kept out of reach of those terrible forepaws they were safe. +While the Indian continued to belabour the bear's head, Connie managed +to slip around behind the animal and recover his ax, after which it was +but the work of a few moments to dispatch the huge bear with a few +well-directed blows. + +It was almost dark when the two stood looking down upon the carcass of +the great barren ground grizzly. + +"So that's your little black bear that don't like to fight much!" +grinned Connie. + +'Merican Joe returned the grin. "All de tam kin learn somet'ing new. +Nex' tam we dig out de den bear we bring de big gun 'long. Annyhow, we +git mor' bait an' dog feed, an' de good meat, an' de bigger skin, an' we +git mor', w'at you call, excite!" He placed his foot upon the head of +the dead bear. "Dat too bad we got to kill you, cousin. But Injun an' +white boy got to git de meat to eat, an' de bait to ketch de leetle +marten. We mooch oblig' you ain' kill us." + +'Merican Joe's crushed snowshoes and his coat were dug out of the snow, +and together the two managed to work the carcass on to its back. The +Indian proceeded to build a fire by the light of which he could skin +the bear while Connie fastened on his own rackets and hit out for the +cabin to procure the toboggan and dogs, and an extra pair of snowshoes. +An hour later he returned, just as 'Merican Joe was stripping the hide +from the hind legs. While Connie folded it into a convenient pack, the +Indian took the ax and chopped off the bear's head which he proceeded to +tie to the branches of a small spruce at the foot of which the animal +had been killed. + +"What in thunder are you doing?" asked the boy. + +'Merican Joe regarded him gravely. "Mus' hang up de skull right where he +git kill," he answered. + +"Why?" + +"Cause _Sah-ha-lee Tyee_, w'at you call, de Great Spirit, he com' 'long +an' count de bears in de springtime. He count de Injun, too, an' de +moose, an' de beaver' an' all de big people. _S'pose_ he ain' fin' dat +bear. He ain' know dat bear git kill. He t'ink dat bear ain' wake up +yet, or else he hide in de den. If de skull ain' hang up she git cover +up wit' leaves, or sink in de swamp, an' _Sah-ha-lee Tyee_ no kin fin'. +But, w'en he see skull hang up, he say: 'De Injun kill de bear an' git +meat. Dat good. I sen' um nodder bear.' So de bear always plenty in de +Injun country. De white men com' 'long an' kill de bear. Dey ain' hang +up de skull--an' by-m-by, w'ere de white man live de bears is all gon'." + +The duty performed to 'Merican Joe's satisfaction, the carcass and skin +were loaded on to the toboggan and by the thin light of the little stars +they started the dogs and wended their way across the narrow lake to the +little cabin in the spruce grove, well satisfied with their first day of +trapping. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +OUT ON THE TRAP LINE + + +Connie Morgan was anxious to be off on the trap line early in the +morning following the adventure with the bear. But 'Merican Joe shook +his head and pointed to the carcass of the bear that for want of a +better place had been deposited upon the floor of the cabin. "First we +got to build de _cache_. We ain' got no room in de cabin--an' besides, +she too warm for keep de meat good. De dog, an' de wolf, an' de _loup +cervier_, an' de _carcajo_, w'at you call 'Injun devil,' dey all hongre +an' hunt de meat. We got to build de _cache_ high up." + +The first thing, of course, was to locate the site. This was quickly +done by selecting four spruce trees about three inches in diameter and +ten feet apart, and so situated as to form the corner posts of a rude +square. Taking his ax, the Indian ascended one of these trees, lopping +off the limbs as he went, but leaving the stubs for foot and hand +holds. About twelve feet from the ground he cut off the trunk just above +the place where a good stout limb stub formed a convenient crotch. The +other three trees were similarly treated. Four strong poles were cut and +placed from one crotch to another to form the frame of the _cache_. +These poles were cut long enough to extend about four feet beyond the +corner posts. Upon this frame-work lighter poles were laid side by side +to form the platform of the _cache_--a platform that protruded beyond +the corner posts so far that no animal which might succeed in climbing +one of the posts could possibly manage to scramble over the edge. The +corner posts were trimmed smooth, and a rude ladder, which consisted +simply of a young spruce with the limb stubs left on for the rungs was +made. The last step in the completion of the _cache_ was to cut down all +trees whose limbs over-hung in such manner that a _carcajo_ could crawl +out and drop down upon the platform, and also those trees whose +proximity might tempt a lynx to try a flying leap to the _cache_. + +When the carcass of the bear had been quartered and deposited upon the +platform, the brush and limbs cleared away, and the ladder removed, the +two trappers gazed in satisfaction at their handiwork. The stout +_cache_, capable of protecting several tons of meat from the inroads of +the forest prowlers, had been constructed without the use of a single +nail, or bit of rope, or thong, and with no tool except an ax! + +It was noon when the task was completed, and after a hasty lunch of tea, +bear's liver, and bannock, 'Merican Joe selected fifteen small steel +traps which he placed in his pack sack. He also carried a light belt ax, +while Connie shouldered the larger ax and reached for the 30-40 rifle. +'Merican Joe shook his head. + +"Dat ain' no good to tak' de big gun. Tak' de leetle wan an' mebbe-so +you git som' mor' bait." + +"Yes, and what if we run on to another one of your little black bears +that don't like to fight? And what if we should see a caribou? And +suppose we found a lynx in one of those snares?" + +"We ain' goin' hunt no caribou. We goin' set marten traps, an' if we +com' on de bear den we wait an' com' back som' odder time." + +"But suppose there is a lynx in one of those snares?" persisted the boy. + +"Let um be in de snare. We ain' goin' to de swamp. Dat ain' no good to +go 'long de trap line too mooch. Let um be for week--mebbe-so ten day. +We go runnin' t'rough de woods every day same place, we scare everyt'ing +off. Anyhow, we ain' need de big gun for de _loup cervier_. De leetle +gun better, he don' mak' so big hole in de skin. An' if de _loup +cervier_ is in de snare, we ain' need no gun at all. She choke dead." + +A half mile from camp, 'Merican Joe set his first trap. The place +selected for the set was the trunk of a large spruce that had been +uprooted by the wind, and leaned against another tree at an angle of +forty-five degrees. Two blows of the light belt ax made a notch into +which the small steel trap fitted perfectly. The bait was placed upon +the tree trunk just above the trap and a small barrier of bark was +constructed close below the trap in such a manner that the marten in +clambering over the barrier must almost to a certainty plant at least +one fore foot upon the pan of the trap. The trap chain was secured to +the tree so that when the marten was caught he would leap from the trunk +and hang suspended in the air, which would give him no chance to free +himself by gnawing his leg off above the jaws of the trap. This leaning +tree set was 'Merican Joe's favourite with the steel traps. + +A particularly ingenious set was made upon the trunk of a standing tree +whose bark showed tiny scars and scratches that indicated to the +practised eyes of the Indian that it was frequently ascended by martens. +In this case two short sticks were sharpened and driven into the tree +trunk to form a tiny platform for the trap. Some slabs were then cut +from a nearby dead spruce and these also were sharpened and driven into +the trunk on either side of the trap. Then a piece of bark was laid over +the top for a roof, and the bait placed in the back of the little house +thus formed. The marten must enter from the bottom and in order to reach +the bait, the only possible spot for him to place his feet would be upon +the pan of the trap. + +Several sets were also made on the ground in places where the sign +showed right. These ground sets were made generally at the base of a +tree or a stump and consisted of little houses made of bark, with the +bait in the back and the trap placed between the door and the bait. In +the case of these sets, instead of securing the chain to the tree or +stump, it was made fast to a clog, care being taken to fasten the chain +to the middle of the stick. + +Three or four sets were made for mink, also. These sets were very +simple, and yet the Indian made them with elaborate care. They consisted +in placing the trap just within the mouth of a hole that showed evidence +of occupation, after first scooping out a depression in the snow. The +trap was placed in the bottom of the depression and carefully covered +with light, dry leaves that had been previously collected. 'Merican Joe +took great care to so arrange these leaves that while the jaws, pan, and +spring were covered, no leaves would be caught in the angle of the jaws +and thus prevent their closing about the leg of the mink. The leaves +were now covered with snow, and the chain carried outward, buried in the +snow, and secured to a tossing pole. + +The short sub-arctic day had drawn to a close even before the last set +was made, and in the darkness the two swung wide of their trap line, and +headed for the cabin. + +"Fifteen sets isn't so bad for an afternoon's work," opined Connie, +"especially when you had to do all the work. Tomorrow I can help, and we +ought to be able to get out all the rest of the marten traps. There are +only fifty all told." + +"Fifty steel traps--we git dem set first. We gon 'bout t'ree, four mile +today. We use up de steel trap in 'bout fifteen mile. Dat good--dey too +mooch heavy to carry. Den we begin to set de deadfall." + +"Deadfalls!" cried Connie. "How many traps are we going to put out?" + +"Oh, couple hondre marten an' mink trap. We git de trap line 'bout fifty +mile long. Den we set lot more _loup cervier_ snare." + +They swung out on to their little lake about a mile above the camp and +as they mushed along near shore Connie stopped suddenly and pointed to a +great grey shape that was running swiftly across the mouth of a small +bay. The huge animal ran in a smooth, easy lope and in the starlight his +hair gleamed like silver. + +"Look!" he whispered to the Indian. "There goes Leloo!" Even as he spoke +there came floating down the wind from the direction of the timber at +the head of the lake, the long-drawn howl of a wolf. Leloo halted in +his tracks and stood ears erect, motionless as a carved statue, until +the sound trailed away into silence. A fox trotted out of the timber +within ten yards of where the two stood watching and, catching sight of +Connie as the boy shifted his twenty-two, turned and dashed along a thin +sand point and straight across the lake, passing in his blind haste so +close to Leloo that his thick brush almost touched the motionless +animal's nose. But the big ruffed wolf-dog never gave so much as a +passing glance. + +"That's funny," whispered Connie "Why didn't he grab that fox?" + +"Leloo, he ain' fool wit' no fox tonight," answered 'Merican Joe. "He +goin' far off an' run de ridges wit' de big people." And even as the +Indian spoke, Leloo resumed his long, silent lope. + +"I sure would like to follow him tonight," breathed the boy, as he +watched the great dog until he disappeared upon the smooth, white +surface of the lake where the aurora borealis was casting its weird, +shifting lights upon the snow. + +The weather had moderated to about the zero mark and by the middle of +the following afternoon 'Merican Joe set the last of the remaining +marten traps. Connie proved an apt pupil and not only did he set +fourteen of the thirty-five traps, but each set was minutely examined +and approved by the critical eye of 'Merican Joe. When the last trap was +set, the Indian commenced the construction of deadfalls, and again +Connie became a mere spectator. And a very interested spectator he was +as he watched every movement of 'Merican Joe who, with only such +material as came to hand on the spot, and no tools except his belt ax +and knife, constructed and baited his cunningly devised deadfalls. These +traps were built upon stumps and logs and were of the common +figure-of-four type familiar to every schoolboy. The weight, or fall +log, was of sufficient size to break the back of a marten. + +"De steel trap she bes'," explained the Indian. "She easy to set, an' +she ketch mor' marten. Wit' de steel trap if de marten com' 'long an' +smell de bait he mus' got to put de foot in de trap--but in de deadfall +she got to grab de bait an' give de pull to spring de trap. But, de +deadfall don't cost nuttin', an' if you go far de steel trap too mooch +heavy to carry. Dat why I set de steel trap in close, an' de deadfall +far out." + +For four days the two continued to set deadfalls. The last two days +they packed their sleeping bags, camping where night overtook them, and +the evening of the fourth day found them with an even two hundred traps +and thirty lynx snares set, and a trap line that was approximately fifty +miles long and so arranged that either end was within a half mile of the +cabin. + +"We go over de snare line in de swamp tomor'," said 'Merican Joe, as +they sat that night at their little table beside the roaring sheet-iron +stove, "an' next day we start over de trap line." + +"About how many marten do you think we ought to catch?" asked Connie. + +The Indian shrugged: "Can't tell 'bout de luck--sometam lot of +um--sometam mebbe-so not none." + +"What do you mean by a lot?" persisted the boy. + +"Oh, mebbe-so, twenty--twenty five." + +"About one marten for every eight or ten traps," figured the boy. + +The Indian nodded. "You set seven steel trap an' catch wan marten, dat +good. You set ten deadfall an' ketch wan marten, dat good, too." + +"We've got six lynx snares down in the swamp to look at tomorrow. How +many lynx are we going to get?" + +'Merican Joe grinned. "Mebbe-so not none--mebbe-so one, two. Dat all tam +bes' we count de skin w'en we git hom'." + +"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched, eh?" laughed Connie. + +The Indian looked puzzled. "W'at you mean--chicken hatch?" And when the +boy explained to the best of his ability the old saw, 'Merican Joe, who +had never seen a chicken in his life, nodded sagely. "Dat right--an' you +ain' kin count de fur hatch first, nieder." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE TRAIL OF THE _CARCAJO_ + + +At daylight next morning they crossed the narrow lake, travelling light, +that is, each carried only his lunch in his pack sack, and Connie +carried the light rifle, while 'Merican Joe dragged an empty toboggan +upon which to haul home the rabbits and the lynx if they were lucky +enough to get one. + +The toboggan was left at the edge of the swamp and the two entered and +plunged into the maze of rabbit paths that crisscrossed the snow in all +directions. The first two snares were undisturbed, the third was pushed +aside and had to be readjusted. Where the fourth and fifth snares had +been a white snowshoe rabbit dangled from each tossing pole, and they +were promptly transferred to the pack sacks and the snares reset. + +Numerous new snares were set, the old ones adjusted, and the rabbits +taken from the tossing poles of the lucky ones. One snare was missing +altogether, and 'Merican Joe pointed to the tracks of a large wolf. "He +run 'long an' git de foot or de nose in de snare, but she ain' strong +'nough to hold um," he explained. At noon they camped at the place where +'Merican Joe had skinned the rabbits on the first trip. They had twelve +rabbits in the packs and these they _cached_ to pick up on the return. + +It was not long after they resumed operations on the snare line that +Connie, with a whoop of delight, dashed toward the spot where the first +lynx snare had been set. The sparse underbrush had been broken down, and +for a considerable space the snow had been torn up and trampled in a +manner that told of a furious struggle. And right in the middle of the +trampled space lay the body of a huge lynx doubled into a curious ball +and frozen to the hardness of iron. The struggle had evidently been +brief but furious, and terminated with the lynx sealing his own doom. +Finding himself caught and held by the ever tightening noose, he had +first tried to escape by flight, but the clog immediately caught on the +underbrush and held him fast. The infuriated animal had then begun a +ferocious attack upon the clog, which showed the deep scars of teeth +and claws, and had wound up by catching his powerful hind feet upon the +clog, one on either side of the center where the snare was fastened, and +by straining the great muscles of his legs, literally choked himself to +death. + +More rabbits were added to the packs, and a short time later another +_cache_ was made. Connie wanted to set some more lynx snares, but they +had shot no rabbits, and it was impossible to skin the frozen ones they +had taken from the snares without wasting time in thawing them out. + +"Let's use a whole one," suggested the boy. "We've got lots of 'em, and +a lynx is worth a rabbit, any time." + +'Merican Joe objected. "We got plenty rabbit today--mebbe-so nex' tam we +ain' got none. It ain' no good we waste de rabbit. S'pose we leave de +rabbit for bait; de wolf an' de fox he com' long an' he too mooch smart +to git in de snare, but he git de rabbit jes' de sam'. Anyhow, we ain' +kin make de rabbit look lak he sittin' down w'en de hine legs is +stickin' down straight lak de sawbuck. Nex' tam we got plenty rabbit +skin for set de snare--de _loup cervier_ she run all winter, anyhow." + +The next four lynx snares were undisturbed, but the sixth and last had +disappeared altogether. + +"It held him for a while, though," said Connie, as he gazed in +disappointment at the snow which had been scratched and thrown in all +directions by the big cat. + +The Indian laughed aloud at the evident disappointment that showed in +the boy's face. + +"I don't see anything so funny about it!" frowned Connie. + +"Dat mak' me laugh I see you sorry 'bout lose de _loup cervier_. You +rich. You got plenty money. An' when you lose wan _loup cervier_, you +look lak you los' de gol' mine." + +"It isn't the value of the skin!" exclaimed the boy, quickly. "But when +I start to do a thing I like to do it. It don't make any difference what +it is, and it don't make any difference whether the stakes are high or +low. If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right. And if it's worth +starting, it's worth finishing." + +'Merican Joe nodded: "I know. We go finish um _loup cervier_, now." + +"What do you mean--finish him?" cried Connie, pointing to the tracks in +the snow that led from the scene of the brief struggle with the +snare--tracks that showed where the lynx had fled in powerful, +fifteen-foot leaps. "That don't look much like we'd finish that fellow, +does it? Believe me, he left here in a hurry! He's probably climbing the +North Pole right now!" + +"I ain' know nuttin' 'bout no Nort' Poles. W'ere you t'ink de stick go +w'at we fix on de snare?" + +Connie examined the scene of the struggle minutely, kicking the loose +snow about, but failed to find the clog. + +"Why, he skipped out, clog and all! That clog wasn't very heavy." + +"No, she ain' heavy, but she fasten in de middle, an' she ketch in de +brush an' hol' _loup cervier_ tight, you bet! You ain' see no track +w'ere de stick drag, eh?" + +Connie scrutinized the trail of the lynx, but the snow gave no sign of +the clog. He turned a puzzled glance upon the Indian. "That's funny. He +certainly didn't leave it here, and he couldn't have dragged it without +leaving a trail, even if it hadn't caught on the brush." + +Again 'Merican Joe laughed. "No, he ain' leave it--an' he ain' drag it. +He ol' man _loup cervier_--he smart. He fin' out he ain' kin break +loose, an' he ain' kin drag de stick, so he pick him up an' carry him in +de mout'. But he ain' so mooch smart lak he t'ink. De firs' t'ing de +_loup cervier_ do w'en you chase um--he climb de tree. He t'ink de snare +chase um--so he climb de tree. Den, by-m-by he git tire to hol' de stick +in de mout' an' he let him go. Den he set on de limb long time an' +growl. Den he t'ink he go som' mor', an' he start to climb down de tree. +An' den de stick ketch on de limb an' he can't git down. He pull an' +fight, but dat ain' no good--so he giv' de big jump--an' den he git +hung--lak de mans do w'en dey kill nodder mans. Com' on--he ain' lak to +go far. He lak to climb de tree. We fin' um queek." + +That 'Merican Joe knew what he was talking about was soon demonstrated. +For several hundred yards the tracks led straight through the swamp. +Suddenly the Indian halted at the foot of a spruce that reared high +above its neighbours and pointed to the snow which was littered with +needles and bits of bark. There were no tracks beyond the foot of the +tree, and Connie peered upward, but so thick were the branches that he +could see nothing. Removing his snowshoes and pack, 'Merican Joe climbed +the tree and a few moments later Connie heard the blows of his belt ax +as he hacked at the limb that held the clog. There was a swish of +snow-laden branches, and amid a deluge of fine snow the frozen body of +the lynx struck the ground at the boy's feet. + +Loading himself with as much as his pack sack could hold, the Indian +struck off to get the toboggan, leaving Connie to pack the carcass of +the lynx and the remaining rabbits back to the noon-time _cache_. This +necessitated two trips, and when Connie returned with the second load he +found 'Merican Joe waiting. "Thirty-two rabbits and two lynx," counted +Connie as they loaded the toboggan. "And let's beat it and get 'em +skinned so we can start out in the morning on the real trap line." + +The rabbits were placed just as they were upon the platform of the +_cache_, to be used as needed, and the evening was spent in thawing and +skinning the two lynx. + +"Why don't you rip him up the belly like you did the bear?" asked +Connie, as the Indian started to slit the animal's head. + +"No. Skin um, w'at you call, case. De bear an' de beaver skin flat. +Case all de rest. Start on de head lak dis. Den draw de skin down over +de body. You see she com' wrong side out. Den you finish on de tail an' +de hine legs an' you got um done--all de fur inside, and de flesh side +out." + +Connie watched with interest while the Indian skillfully drew the pelt +from the carcass and stretched it upon splints prepared with his belt +ax. + +"Now you skin nex' wan," smiled the Indian. "I bet you mak' de good job. +You learn queek." + +Connie set to work with a will and, in truth, he did a very creditable +job, although it took him three times as long as it had taken the +Indian, and his pelt showed two small knife cuts. "Now what do we do +with 'em?" he asked when he had his skin all stretched. + +"Dry um." + +Connie started to place them close to the hot stove, but 'Merican Joe +shook his head. + +[Illustration: "'Merican Joe climbed the tree and a few minutes later +Connie heard the blows of his belt ax as he hacked at the limb that held +the clog." + +Drawn by Frank E. Schoonover] + +"No! Dat ain' no good!" he exclaimed. "Dat fat she melt an' de heat she +dry de skin too queek, an' she git, w'at you call, grease burnt. Dat why +we nail de bear skin on de outside of de cabin. De skin she got to dry +in de cold. W'en de frost dry um, den we mus' got to scrape all de fat +an' de meat off, an' wash um, and dry um ag'in--den we got de good prime +skin." The Indian fastened a stout piece of line into the nose of each +pelt, and climbing the ladder, secured them to one of the poles of the +_cache_ in such manner that they hung free to the air, and yet out of +reach of any prowling animals. When they returned to the cabin 'Merican +Joe proceeded to cut thick slices from the hams of the two lynx +carcasses. + +"Is that good for bait?" asked the boy. + +'Merican Joe laughed. "Dat too mooch good for bait!" he exclaimed. "We +goin' have dat meat for de breakfas'." + +"For breakfast!" cried Connie. "You don't mean you're going to eat lynx +meat! Why, a lynx is a cat!" + +"Mebbe-so cat--mebbe-so ain't. Dat don't mak' no differ' w'at you call +um. You wait, I fry um an' I bet you t'ink dat de bes' meat you ever +eat." + +"I don't believe I could tackle a cat," grinned the boy. + +"Dat better you forgit dat cat business. If it good, it good. If it ain' +good, it ain' good. W'at you care you call um cat--dog--pig? Plenty +t'ing good to eat w'en you fin' dat out. De owl, she good meat. De +musquash, w'at you call de mushrat--dat don' hurt de meat 'cause you +call um rat! De skunk mak' de fine meat, an' de porkypine, too." + +"I guess Injuns ain't so particular what they eat," laughed Connie. + +"De Injun know w'at de good meat is," retorted 'Merican Joe. "By golly, +I seen de white mans eat de rotten cheese, an' she stink so bad dat mak' +de Injun sick." + +"I guess you win!" laughed the boy. "I've seen 'em too--but you bet I +never ate any of it!" + +"You try de _loup cervier_ steak in de mornin'," the Indian urged +earnestly. "If you don' lak him I bet you my dogs to wan chaw tobac'!" + +"I don't chew tobacco," Connie grinned, "but seeing you've gone to all +the trouble of slicing the meat up, I'll take a chance." + +"How you lak him, eh?" 'Merican Joe grinned across the little table at +Connie next morning, as the boy gingerly mouthed a small piece of lynx +steak. Connie swallowed the morsel, and, without answering, took another +bite. There was nothing gingerly about the action this time, and the +Indian noted that the boy's jaws worked with evident relish. + +"Well," answered Connie, when the second morsel had gone the way of the +first, "if the rest of the things you were telling me about are as good +as this, all I've got to say is: Bring 'em along!" + +Daylight found them on the trap line with sleeping bags and provisions +in their packs, for it would require at least two days to "fresh up" the +line. + +At noon they camped for lunch almost at the end of the line of steel +traps. So far they had been unusually lucky. Only two traps had been +sprung empty, and eight martens and a mink were in the pack sacks. Only +two of the martens, and the mink were alive when found and Connie +quickly learned the Indian method of killing a trapped animal--a method +that is far more humane and very much easier when it comes to skinning +the animal than the white man's method of beating him on the head with +the ax handle. With the latter practice the skull is crushed with the +result that there is a nasty mess which discolours the flesh side of the +pelt and makes very disagreeable work for the skinner. + +The first live marten was in one of the "ground set" traps and upon the +approach of the trappers he arched his back and stood at bay, emitting +sharp squalls and growls of anger. 'Merican Joe simply planted his +snowshoe on him, pressing him into the snow, then with one hand he +reached down and secured a firm hold on the animal's neck and gradually +worked the fore part of his body from under the snowshoe, taking care to +keep the hinder part held fast by the web. Snapping the mitten from his +other hand, the Indian felt just behind the lower ribs for the animal's +heart, and grasping it firmly between thumb and fingers he pulled +quickly downward. The heart was thus torn from its position and the +animal died instantly and painlessly. The mink which was suspended by +the tossing pole, and the other marten which had fallen victim to one of +the "tree sets," of course, could not be held by the snowshoe. As both +were caught by the fore leg, a loop of copper wire was slipped about +their hind legs and the animals thus stretched out and dispatched in the +same manner as the first. + +As these three animals were not frozen, 'Merican Joe skinned them at the +noon camp, thereby doing away with the weight of the useless carcasses. + +"What are we going to do when we finish up this trap line?" asked +Connie. "It won't be time to look at the snares again." + +"No. We tak' a day an' res' up, an' skin de martens an' stretch um. Den +we mus' got to git som' dog feed. We put out de fish nets an' hunt de +caribou. Leloo, he be'n killing caribou wit' de wolf pack--he ain' +hongre w'en we feed de dogs." + +But the revelation of the next few miles drove all thought of a day of +rest or a caribou hunt from the mind of the Indian, for real trouble +began with the second trap visited in the afternoon. This trap which had +been set upon the trunk of a leaning tree, was found dangling empty by +its chain, and held firmly between its jaws was the frozen leg of a +marten. The keen eyes of 'Merican Joe saw at a glance that the animal +had neither gnawed nor twisted its own way out of the trap but had been +torn from it by violence. The Indian scowled darkly at certain telltale +tracks in the snow, and an exclamation of anger escaped him. + +Connie laughed. "Now who's growling about the loss of a skin? One marten +more or less won't make much difference." + +'Merican Joe continued to scowl. "No, one marten don't mak' mooch +differ', but we ain' goin' to git no more marten on dis trap line +_s'pose_ we ain' kill dat _carcajo_! He start in here an' he clean out +de whole line. He steal all de marten, an' he bust up de deadfalls. An' +we got to ketch um or we got got to move som' nodder place!" And in all +truth, the Indian's fears were well justified. For of all the animals of +the North, the _carcajo_ is the most hated by the trappers. And he has +fairly earned every bit of hatred he gets because for absolute malicious +fiendishness this thick-bodied brute of many names has no equal. +Scientists, who have no personal quarrel with him, have given him the +dignified Latin name of _gulo luscus_--the last syllable of the last +word being particularly apt. In the dictionaries and encyclopaedias he is +listed as the glutton. In the United States he is commonly known as the +wolverine. The lumberjacks call him the Injun devil. While among the +trappers and the Indians themselves he is known as the _carcajo_, or as +bad dog--which is the Indian's idea of absolute cussedness and +degeneracy. + +Connie broke the silence that had fallen upon the two as they stared at +the empty trap. "Well, we won't move!" he cried. "There's no measly +_carcajo_ going to run me out of here! We'll get busy, and in two or +three days from now we'll have that scoundrel's hide hanging up on the +_cache_ with the lynx skins!" + +The Indian nodded slowly. "Mebbe-so--mebbe-so not. De _carcajo_, she +smart. She hard to ketch." + +"So are we smart!" exclaimed the boy. "Come on--let's go!" + +"Ain' no good we go 'long de trap line. De trap she all be bust up. We +go back to de cabin an' git som' beaver trap, an' we start out on de +odder end an' back-track 'long de trap line. Mebbe-so de _carcajo_ ain' +had time to git over de whole line yet. Anyhow, we got to set plenty +trap for him." + +Hastening back to the cabin, the frozen martens were thawed out and +skinned, and 'Merican Joe made up his pack for the trail. Connie +refrained from asking questions, as the Indian solemnly made up his +queer pack, but the boy resolved to keep his eyes open the following +day, for of all the things the Indian placed in his pack sack, there +was nothing that appeared to be of any use whatever except the six stout +beaver traps. + +Daylight next morning found them at the end of the trap line which they +back-trailed for some five or six miles without seeing any signs of the +presence of the _carcajo_. They had four martens in their packs, and +Connie was beginning to believe that the outlook was not so bad after +all, when they suddenly came upon one of the deadfalls literally torn to +pieces. There had been a marten in this trap, but nothing remained of +him except a few hairs that clung to the bark of the fall-log. The bait +was gone, the bait house was broken apart, and the pieces strewn about +in the most savage and wanton manner. The tracks were only a few hours +old, and Connie was for following them and killing the marauder with the +rifle. But 'Merican Joe shook his head: "No, we ain' kin fin' him. He +climb de tree and den git in nodder tree an' keep on goin' an' we lose +time an' don' do no good. He quit here las' night. He start in ag'in +tonight w'ere he leave off. We go back, now, an' set som' trap w'ere he +ain' be'n." + +Retracing their steps to the first unmolested deadfall, the Indian set +one of the beaver traps. But instead of baiting it, or setting it at the +opening of the bait house, he carefully scooped a depression in the snow +at the back of the house. Placing the trap in this depression so that it +lay about two inches below the level of the snow, he carefully laid +small clusters of needles from the pan outward so that they rested upon +the jaws. This was to keep the snow from packing or freezing on the trap +which would prevent it from springing. When the trap was completely +covered the Indian took two pieces of crust from the snow and, holding +them above the trap, rubbed them together, thus grinding the snow and +letting it fall upon the needles until the whole was covered with what +looked like a natural fall of snow. "De _carcajo_ he com' to de trap at +de back an' break it up," he explained as he stood up and examined his +handiwork critically. + +"I hope he tries it on that one," grinned Connie, as he followed the +Indian who had already started for the next set. + +This set was different, in that it was not made at any trap. The Indian +paused beside a fallen log and with the ax cut a half-dozen green +poles. These he cut into three-foot lengths and laid them one on top of +the other in the shape of a three-cornered crib. Then he took from the +pack some of the articles that had excited Connie's curiosity. An old +coat, tightly rolled, was first placed within the enclosure of the crib. +Then several empty tin cans were placed on top of the coat, and covered +with an old scrap of canvas. On top of the canvas were placed the +snowshoes that had been crushed by the bear. Four of the beaver traps +were now set, one on each side of the crib, close to the wall and one on +top of the snowshoes inside the enclosure. The traps on the outside were +covered in exactly the same manner as the trap set at the deadfall, and +the one inside was simply covered with an old worn-out sock. + +"Where does the bait go?" asked Connie, as he glanced curiously at the +contrivance. + +"De bait she all ready. We ain' want no meat bait. De _carcajo_ com' +'long, she see de leetle log house. She sniff 'roun' an' she say: 'Dis +is wan _cache_. I bust him up an' steal all de t'ings.' An' so he go to +bust up de _cache_ an' de firs' t'ing she know she got de leg in de +trap. Dat mak' him mad an' he jump 'roun' an' by-m-by anodder leg gits +in odder trap, an' by golly, den he ain' kin git away no mor'!" + +"Why don't you fasten the chains to the big log, instead of to those +light clogs?" asked the boy. + +"Dat ain' no good way to do," replied the Indian. "If she fasten on de +big solid log, de _carcajo_ git chance to mak' de big pull. He git w'at +you call de brace, an' he pull an' pull, an' by-m-by, he pull hees foot +out. But w'en you mak' de trap on de clog he ain' kin git no good pull. +Every tam he pull, de clog com' 'long a leetle, an' all he do is drag de +stick." + +The remaining trap was set at another deadfall, and the two trappers +returned home to await results. But while they waited, they were not +idle. The dog food was running low, so armed with ice chisels and axes +they went out on to the snow-covered lake and busied themselves in +setting their whitefish nets through the ice. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE CARIBOU HUNT + + +Connie Morgan and his trapping partner, 'Merican Joe, bolted a hurried +breakfast. For both were eager to know the result of their attempt to +trap the _carcajo_ that had worked such havoc with their line of marten +and mink traps. + +"Suppose we do catch this one?" asked Connie as he fastened his rackets. +"Won't there be an other one along in a day or two, so we'll have to do +it all over again?" + +"No," explained the Indian. "_Carcajo_ no like nodder _carcajo_. In de +winter tam de _carcajo_ got he's own place to hunt. If nodder wan comes +'long dey mak' de big fight, an' wan gits lick an' he got to go off an' +fin' nodder place to hunt. Injun hate _carcajo_. Marten hate um. Mink, +an fox hate um. Deer hate um. All de peoples hate um--de big peoples, +an' de leetle peoples. _Carcajo_ so mean even _carcajo_ hate _carcajo_!" + +A yell of triumph escaped Connie as, closely followed by 'Merican Joe, +he pushed aside the thick screen of spruce branches and came suddenly +upon the crib-like _cache_ that the Indian had constructed to entice the +malicious night prowler. For right in the midst of the wreckage of the +_cache_, surrounded by the broken snowshoes, the tin cans, the old coat, +and the sticks that had formed the crib, was the _carcajo_ himself, a +foreleg in one trap and his thick shaggy tail in another! When he caught +sight of the trappers the animal immediately showed fight. And never had +Connie seen such an exhibition of insensate ferocity as the _carcajo_, +every hair erect, teeth bared, and emitting squall-like growls of rage, +tugged at the rattling trap chains in a vain effort to attack. Beside +this animal the rage of even the disturbed barren ground grizzly seemed +a mild thing. But, of course, the grizzly had been too dopey and dazed +from his long sleep, to really put forth his best efforts. + +"Shoot um in de ear," advised 'Merican Joe, "an' it ain' no hole in de +hide an' it kill um queek." And, holding the muzzle of the little +twenty-two close, Connie dispatched the animal with one well-placed +shot. The next instant, 'Merican Joe was laughing as Connie held his +nose, for like the skunk, the _carcajo_ has the power to emit a +yellowish fluid with an exceedingly disagreeable odour--and this +particular member of the family used his power lavishly. + +"He too mooch smart to git in de trap in de snow," said the Indian, +pointing to the dead _carcajo_. "He climb up on de log an' den he jump +'cross de leetle space an' put de foot in de trap on top of de pile. Den +w'en he git mad an tear up de _cache_ an' try to git loose, he sit down +in wan more trap, an it ketch him on he's tail." + +While 'Merican Joe drew the shaggy brownish-black skin from the thick +body, Connie recovered the traps, removed the clogs, and _cached_ them +where they could be picked up later. Neither of the two traps that had +been set at the backs of the marten traphouses had been disturbed, and +as Connie gathered these and placed them with the others, he learned of +the extreme wariness and caution of the _carcajo_. For the snow told the +story of how the prowler had circled the traphouses several times, and +then lumbered on, leaving them untouched. + +"It's a wonder you don't cut some steaks out of him," grinned the boy +as he looked at the fat carcass. + +The Indian shook his head. "No. De _carcajo_, an' de mink, an' de +marten, an' de fisher, an' de otter ain' no good to eat. W'en you fin' +de Injun w'at eat 'em--look out! Dat one bad Injun, you bet!" + +The work of "freshing up" the trap line in the wake of the _carcajo_ +took almost as long as the laying of a new line. For the marauder had +done his work thoroughly and well. Hardly a trap was left unmolested. In +some places the snow showed where he had eaten a marten, but in most +instances the traps were simply destroyed apparently from sheer +wantonness. Three or four martens and one lynx were recovered where they +had been taken from the traps, carried off the line for some distance, +and buried in the snow. + +By evening of the third day the task was finished and the two trappers +returned to their cabin. + +The following day was spent in getting ready a trail outfit for the +caribou hunt. Both of the toboggans and dog teams were to be taken to +haul home the meat, and provisions for a week's trip were loaded. Only +a few caribou tracks had been seen on the trap line and 'Merican Joe +believed that more would be found to the south-eastward. + +The first night on the trail they camped at the edge of a wide _brule_, +some twenty miles from the cabin. No caribou had been sighted during the +day, although tracks were much more numerous than they had been in the +vicinity of the cabin. 'Merican Joe had not brought his heavy rifle, +preferring instead the twenty-two, with which he had succeeded in +bringing down four ptarmigan. And as they sat snug and cozy in the +little tent and devoured their supper of stew and tea and pilot bread, +Connie bantered the Indian. + +"You must think you're going to sneak up as close to the caribou as I +did to the _carcajo_, to get one with that gun." + +'Merican Joe grinned. "You wait. You see I git mor' caribou wit' de +knife den you git wit' de big gun," he answered. "Me an' Leloo, we ain' +need no gun, do we, Leloo?" The great wolf-dog had been secured in the +tent to prevent his slipping off during the night, and at the mention of +his name he pricked up his ears and searched the faces of the two, as +if trying to figure out what all the talk was about. Far away in the +timber a wolf howled, and Leloo's eyes at once assumed an expression of +intense longing and he listened motionless until the sound died away, +then with a glance at the _babiche_ thong that secured him, settled +slowly to the robe and lay with his long pointed muzzle upon his +outstretched forepaws, and his dull yellow eyes blinking lazily. + +Early the following morning they skirted the south shore of Lake Ste. +Therese, crossed the river, and headed for a range of hills that could +be seen to the south-eastward. The day was warm, ten to fifteen degrees +above zero, and the gusty south-east wind was freighted with frequent +snow squalls. Toward noon, as they were crossing a frozen muskeg, +Connie, who was in the lead, stopped to examine some fresh caribou +tracks that led toward the timber of the opposite side in a course +nearly parallel with their own. 'Merican Joe halted his team and came +forward. Leloo nosed the tracks and, with no more show of interest than +a slight twitching of the ears, raised his head and eyed first 'Merican +Joe, then Connie. The trail was very fresh and the scent strong so that +the other dogs sniffed the air and whined and whimpered in nervous +eagerness. The trail was no surprise to Leloo. So keen was his sense of +scent that for a quarter of a mile he had known that they were nearing +it. Had he been alone, or running at the head of the hunt-pack, he would +even now have been wolfing down huge mouthfuls of the warm, +blood-dripping meat. But this case was different. At this moment he was +a dog, and not a wolf. His work was the work of the harness. Leloo's +yellow eyes scrutinized the faces of his two masters as they talked, for +he had been quick to recognize Connie as his new master, although he +never quite renounced allegiance to the Indian. He obeyed alike the +command of either, and both were too wise in the way of dogs to try him +out with conflicting commands just to see "which he would mind." + +Leloo knew that his masters would do one of two things. Either they +would follow the caribou and kill them, or they would ignore the trail +and hold their own course. He hoped they would decide to follow the +caribou. For two or three days he had been living on fish, and Leloo did +not like fish and only ate them when there was nothing else to eat. He +watched 'Merican Joe return to his dogs, and fairly leaped into the +collar as Connie swung him on to the trail. Two bull caribou had gone +that way scarcely an hour before. There would be a kill, and plenty of +meat. + +A quarter of a mile before reaching the timber, Connie, who was in the +lead, swerved sharply from the trail and headed toward a point that +would carry them to the bush well down wind from the place the caribou +had entered. Leloo cheerfully followed for he understood this move, and +approved it. Arriving in the scrub, Connie and 'Merican Joe quickly +unharnessed the dogs and tied all except the wolf-dog to trees. The boy +removed the rifle from the toboggan and threw a shell into the chamber. + +"Hadn't we better put a line on Leloo?" he asked as they started in the +direction of the trail. + +'Merican Joe laughed; "No, Leloo he know 'bout hunt--you watch. You want +to see de gran' dog work you jes' shoot wan caribou. Leloo he git' de +odder wan, you bet!" + +"You don't mean he'll get him unless he's wounded!" + +"Sure, he git him--you see! If you shoot wan an' wound him, Leloo git +de good wan first, an' den he go git de wounded wan." + +They cut the trail at the edge of the muskeg and immediately circled +down wind. Leloo trotted quietly beside them, and now and then Connie +noted twitching of the delicate nostrils. Suddenly the animal halted, +sniffing the air. The ruff bristled slightly, and turning at a right +angle to the course, the dog headed directly into the wind. + +"He ketch um," said 'Merican Joe. "Close by. Dat ain' no trail +scent--dat body scent!" + +The spruce gave place to willows, and creeping to the edge of a frozen +marshy stream, they saw the two caribou feeding upon the opposite side. + +Connie set for two hundred yards and fired. The larger bull reared high +in front, pitched sidewise, and after several lurching leaps, fell to +the snow. The other headed diagonally across the open at a trot. Beside +him Connie heard a low growl, there was a flash of silver, and Leloo +shot into the open like an arrow. For several seconds the bull trotted +on, unconscious of the great grey shape that was nearly upon him. When +he did discover it and broke into a run it was too late. As if hurled +from a gun the flying wolf-dog rose from the snow and launched himself +at the exposed flank of the fleeing caribou, which was whirled half way +around at the impact. Leloo sprang clear as the stricken animal plunged +and wobbled on his fast weakening legs. The caribou staggered on a few +steps and lay down. And the wolf-dog, after watching him for a moment to +make sure he was really done for, trotted over and sniffed at the bull +Connie had shot. + +While 'Merican Joe, with a quick twist of his sheath knife, cut the +stricken animal's throat, Connie examined the wound that had brought him +down. Leloo had returned to his kill, and as the boy glanced up the +great wolf-dog opened his mouth in a prodigious yawn that exposed his +gleaming fangs, and instantly the boy remembered the words of Waseche +Bill, "Keep your eye on him ... if he ever turns wolf when he'd ort to +be dog ... good-night." "It would be 'good-night,' all right," he +muttered, as he turned again to look at the wound--a long slash that had +cut through the thick hide, the underlying muscles, and the inner +abdominal wall and literally disembowelled the animal as cleanly as +though it had been done with a powerful stroke of a sharp knife. + +"W'at you t'ink 'bout Leloo, now?" grinned the Indian, as he rose from +his knee and wiped his bloody knife upon his larrigan. + +"I think he's some killer!" exclaimed the boy. "No wonder you don't +carry a rifle." + +"Don't need no gun w'en we got Leloo," answered 'Merican Joe, proudly. +"De gun too mooch heavy. Injun ain' so good shot lak de w'ite man. Waste +too mooch shell--dat cost too mooch." + +The butchering and cutting up of the two caribou took less than an hour, +during which time 'Merican Joe found that no matter how much of a +_chechako_ Connie was in regard to the fur-bearers, he had had plenty of +experience in the handling of meat. When the job was finished, the meat +was covered with the hides, and taking only the livers and hearts with +them, the two started for the toboggans. The low-banked, marshy river +upon which they found themselves made a short turn to the northward a +short distance farther on, and they decided to circle around far enough +to see what lay beyond the wooded point. Rounding the bend, they came +upon what was evidently a sluggish lake, or broadening of the river, +its white surface extending for a distance of two or three miles toward +the north. Far beyond the upper end of the lake they could make out +another ridge of hills, similar to the one to the southward toward which +they were heading. They were about to turn back when Connie pointed to +Leloo who was sniffing the air with evident interest. "He smells +something!" exclaimed the boy, "maybe there are some more caribou in the +willows a little farther on." + +The Indian watched the dog narrowly: "Noe he ain' git de body scent--dat +de trail scent. Mus' be de strong scent. He smell um down wind. We go +tak' a look--mebbe-so we git som' mor' meat." + +Keeping close to shore they struck northward upon the surface of the +lake and ten minutes later, 'Merican Joe uttered an exclamation and +pointed ahead. Hastening forward they came upon a broad trail. As far as +they could see the surface of the snow was broken and trampled by the +hoofs of hundreds and hundreds of caribou. The animals had crossed the +lake on a long slant, travelling leisurely and heading in a +north-westerly direction for the hills that could be seen in the +distance. The two bulls they had killed were evidently stragglers of the +main herd, for the trail showed that the animals had passed that same +day--probably early in the morning. + +"We go back an git de dogs and de outfit, an' follow um up. We git +plenty meat now. Dat good place we camp right here tonight an' in de +mornin' we follow 'long de trail." The short afternoon was well advanced +and after selecting a camping site, the Indian hung the livers and +hearts upon a limb, and the two struck out rapidly for the toboggans. + +After hastily swallowing a cold lunch, they harnessed the dogs and +worked the outfit through the timber until they struck the river at the +point where they had slipped upon the two caribou. As they stepped from +the willows Connie pointed toward the opposite shore. "There's something +moving over there!" he exclaimed. "Look--right between the meat piles! A +wolf I guess." + +'Merican Joe peered through the gathering dusk. "No, dat _loup cervier_. +De wolf ain' hunt dead meat." Leloo had caught a whiff of the animal and +the hairs of his great ruff stood out like the quills of an enraged +porcupine. Stooping, the Indian slipped him from the harness and the +next instant a silver streak was flashing across the snow. The _loup +cervier_ did not stand upon the order of his going but struck out for +the timber in great twenty-foot bounds. He disappeared in the willows +with the wolf-dog gaining at every jump, and a moment later a young +spruce shivered throughout its length, as the great cat struck its trunk +a good ten feet above the snow. Connie started at a run, but 'Merican +Joe called him back. + +"We tak' de outfit long an' load de meat first. We got plenty tam. Leloo +hold um in de tree an' den we go git um." Picking up Leloo's harness the +Indian led the way across the river where it was but the work of a few +minutes to load the meat on to the toboggans. + +When the loads were firmly lashed on, the toboggans were tipped over to +prevent the dogs from running away, and taking the light rifle the two +went to the tree beneath which Leloo sat looking up into the glaring +yellow eyes of the lynx. One shot placed squarely in the corner of an +eye brought the big cat down with a thud, and they returned to the +outfit and harnessed Leloo. When they were ready to start, 'Merican Joe +swung the two caribou heads to the top of his load. + +"What are you packing those heads for?" asked Connie. + +"Mus' got to hang um up," answered the Indian. + +"Well, hang them up back there in the woods. There's a couple of handy +limb stubs on that tree we got the lynx out of." + +The Indian shook his head. "No, dat ain' no good. De bear head mus' got +to git hang up right where she fall, but de deer an' de moose and de +caribou head mus' got to hang up right long de water where de canoes go +by." + +"Why's that?" + +The other shrugged. "I ain' know 'bout dat. Mebbe-so w'en _Sah-ha-lee +Tyee_ com' to count de deer, he com' in de canoe. I ain' care I know so +mooch 'bout why. W'en de Injuns hang up de head in de right place, den +de deer, an' de bear, an' all de big peoples ain' git all kill off--an' +w'en de w'ite mans com' in de country an' don't hang up de heads, de big +peoples is all gon' queek. So dat's nuff, an' don't mak' no differ' +'bout why." + +[Illustration: "As darkness settled over the North Country, a little +fire twinkled in the bush, and the odour of sizzling bacon and frying +liver permeated the cozy camp." + +Drawn by Frank E. Schoonover] + +At the bend of the river 'Merican Joe hung up the heads upon a couple +of solid snags, and a short time later they were pitching their little +tent upon the camp site selected beside the caribou trail. As darkness +settled over the north county, a little fire twinkled in the bush, and +the odour of sizzling bacon and frying liver permeated the cozy camp. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE TRAIL IN THE SNOW + + +It was noon the following day when they overtook the caribou herd, half +way between the northern extremity of the lake and the range of hills. A +halt was called upon the margin of a small lake along the shores of +which the stragglers could be seen feeding slowly along. + +"Dat bes' we ain' kill only 'bout six--seven today. Dat mak' us work +pretty good to git um cut up before de night com' long an' freeze um. +Tomorrow we kill eight--nine mor' an' dat be nuff." + +The dogs were unhitched and tied to trees, and Connie started to loosen +the rifle from its place on top of one of the packs. But the Indian +stayed him: "No, dat ain' no good we mak' de shoot. We scare de herd an' +dey travel fast. We let Leloo kill um, an' dat don't chase um off. Dey +t'ink Leloo wan big wolf, an' dey all de tam git kill by de wolf, an' +dey don't care." + +So armed only with their belt axes and knives, they struck out for the +herd accompanied by Leloo who fairly slavered in anticipation of the +coming slaughter. And a slaughter it was, as one by one the stricken +brutes went down before the deadly onslaught. What impressed Connie more +even than the unerring accuracy of the death stroke was the ominous +silence with which the great wolf-dog worked. No whimper--no growl, nor +whine, nor bark--simply a noiseless slipping upon the selected animal, +and then the short silent rush and a caribou staggered weakly to its +knees never to rise again. One or two bawled out as the flashing fangs +struck home, but the sound caused no excitement among the others which +went on feeding as if nothing had happened. This was due to the cunning +of Leloo--partly no doubt a native cunning inherited from his father, +the great white wolf from the frozen land beyond the frozen sea--partly, +too, this cunning was the result of the careful training of 'Merican +Joe, who had taught the wolf-dog to strike only those animals that were +separated from their fellows. For had the killer rushed blindly in, +slashing right and left the herd would have bunched for defence, and +later have travelled far into the hills, or struck out for the open +tundra. + +When six animals were down, Leloo was called off, and Connie and the +Indian set about skinning and cutting up the carcasses. + +"I see where we're going to make about two more trips for this meat," +said Connie. "We've got more than we can pack now, and with what we kill +tomorrow, it will take at least three trips." + +'Merican Joe nodded. "Yes, we build de _cache_, an' we pack all we kin +haul, an' com' back w'en we git time. Anyhow, dat ain' so far lak we +gon' on dem odder hills. We strike mos' straight wes' from here we com' +on de cabin." + +The killing and cutting up was finished by noon next day, and when +darkness fell the two gorged an enormous meal of bannocks and liver, and +retired to their sleeping bags for a well-earned rest. For the two +toboggans stood loaded with meat covered tightly with green hides that +had already frozen into place, and formed an effective protection +against the pilfering of the dogs, three or four of which were amazingly +clever sneak-thieves--while at least two were out-and-out robbers from +whose depredations even the liver sizzling in the frying pan was not +safe. The same precaution of covering was taken with the meat on the +platform of the pole _cache_, for while its height from the ground +protected it from the prowlers, the frozen hides also protected it from +the inroads of the "whiskey jacks," as the voracious and pestiferous +Canada jays are called in the Northland. For they are the boldest +robbers of all, not even hesitating to fly into a tent and grab some +morsel from the plate of the camper while he is eating his meal. These +birds scorn the cold, remaining in the far North all winter, and woe +betide the unprotected piece of meat they happen to light upon, for +though it be frozen to the hardness of iron, the sharp bills of these +industrious marauders will pick it to the bone. + +The pace was slow next day owing to the heavy loads, each toboggan +carrying more than one hundred pounds to the dog. But the trail to the +cabin was not a long one and the trappers were anxious to carry with +them as much meat as possible, to avoid making another trip until well +into fox trapping time. It was late in the afternoon when Connie who was +travelling ahead breaking trail, paused at the edge of a clump of +spruce and examined some tracks in the snow. The tracks were made by a +pair of snowshoes, and the man who wore them had been heading +north-east. 'Merican Joe glanced casually at the tracks. "Som' Injun +trappin'," he opined. + +"White man," corrected Connie, "and I don't believe he was a trapper." + +The Indian glanced again at the trail. "Mebbe-so p'lice," he hazarded. + +"Not by a long shot! If there was any patrol in here there'd be sled +tracks--or at least he'd be carrying a pack, and this fellow was +travelling light. Besides you wouldn't catch any men in the Mounted +fooling with snowshoes like that!" The boy pointed to the pattern of a +track. "Those are bought rackets from the outside. I saw some like 'em +in the window of a store last winter down in Minneapolis. They look nice +and pretty, but they're strung too light. Guess we'll just back track +him for a while. His back trail don't dip much south, and we won't swing +far out of the way." + +'Merican Joe expressed indifference. "W'at you care 'bout de man? We +ain' los' nuttin'. An' we ain' got to run way from de p'lice." + +Connie grinned. "No, and believe me, I'm glad we haven't got to! +They're a hard bunch to run away from. Anyway, this fellow is no +policeman, and I've just got a hunch I'd like to know something about +him. I can't tell why--just a hunch, I guess. But somehow I don't like +the looks of that trail. It don't seem to _fit_. The tracks are pretty +fresh. We ought to strike the remains of his noon camp before long." + +The Indian nodded. "All right, we follow um. You know all 'bout de man +trail. Som' tam you know all 'bout de fur trail, too--you be de gran' +trapper." + +The back trail held its course for a few miles and then swung from the +westward so that it coincided with their own direction. At the point +where it bent from the westward, they came upon the man's noon-time +camp. + +"Here's where he set his pack while he built his fire," pointed the boy. +"He didn't have much of a pack, just a sleeping bag and a couple of +day's grub rolled up in it. Here's where he set his rifle down--it was a +high power--little shorter and thinner butt than mine--a thirty-thirty, +I guess. He ain't a _chechako_ though, for all he's got bought +snowshoes. He tramped out his fire when he went, and he didn't throw +away his tea-grounds. Whoever he is, he's got a camp not farther than +two days from here, or he'd never be travelling that light in this +country." + +A few miles farther on Connie again halted and pointed to another trail +that converged with the one they were following. They had been +travelling upon the ice of a small river and this new trail dipped into +the river bed from the north-eastward. + +"It's the same fellow!" cried the boy. "This trail was made yesterday. +He camped somewhere ahead of us last night and went back where he came +from today. Left his own back trail here--thought it was easier to +follow on up the river, I guess. Or, maybe he wanted to dodge some bad +going. Where he came from isn't so far away, either," continued the boy, +"he was travelling light yesterday, too." + +They had proceeded but a short distance when 'Merican Joe called a halt. +He came forward, and looked intently at Leloo who was the leader of +Connie's team. Connie saw the great wolf-dog was sniffing the air +uneasily. + +"What is it?" he asked of 'Merican Joe. + +"Injuns. Big camp. Me--I kin smell de smoke." + +Connie sniffed the air, but could smell nothing. "How far?" he asked. + +"She straight ahead on de wind--mebbe-so two, t'ree mile." + +The banks of the small river they were following became lower as they +advanced and finally disappeared altogether as the stream wound its way +through a frozen swamp. In the swamp they encountered innumerable trails +of snowshoes that crossed each other at every conceivable angle. + +"Squaw tracks," grunted 'Merican Joe. "De squaw got to ten' de rabbit +snare. Dat mak' um work pretty good. Injun don't buy so mooch grub lak +de wi'te mans, an' every day de squaw got to ketch 'bout ten rabbit. If +dey got mooch--w'at you call _tenas-man_?" + +"Children--kids," supplied Connie. + +"If dey got mooch kids dey mus' got to ketch 'bout twenty rabbit every +day." + +"Why don't they go after caribou?" + +"Yes, dey hunt de caribou w'en de caribou com' roun'. But dey can't go +mebbe-so hondre mile to hunt de caribou. Dey live on de rabbit, an +ptarmigan, an' fish in de winter tam, an' w'en de bad rabbit year com' +'long den de Injun he's belly git empty an' de ribs stick out an' he too +mooch die from de big hongre." + +They were nearing the village. Sounds of a dog fight reached their ears, +the savage growls of the combatants, and the yapping and barking of the +pack that crowded about them. Then the hoarse call of an Indian, and a +yelping of dogs as the man evidently worked on them industriously with a +club. + +They emerged suddenly from the thick growth of the swamp on to the ice +of the broader stream which connects Lake Ste. Therese with McVicker Bay +of Great Bear Lake. The village was located upon the opposite bank which +rose some twelve or fifteen feet above the river ice. Through the +gathering darkness Connie made out some five or six log cabins, and many +makeshift dwellings of poles, skins and snow blocks. + +Their appearance upon the river was the occasion for a pandemonium of +noise as the Indian dogs swept out upon the ice to greet them with +barks, yaps, growls, whines, and howls. Never had the boy seen such a +motley collection of dogs. Big dogs and little dogs, long tailed, short +tailed, and bob tailed--white dogs and black dogs, and dogs of every +colour and all colours between. In only two particulars was there any +uniformity--they all made some sort of a noise, and they were all +skin-poor. + +Heads appeared at the doors of various dwellings, and a little knot of +Indians gathered at the top of the bank, where they waited, staring +stolidly until two heavily loaded toboggans came to a halt at the foot +of the steep bank. + +Greetings were exchanged and several invitations were extended to the +travellers to spend the night--one Indian in particular, who spoke a few +words of English and appeared to be rather better dressed than the +others, was very insistent, pointing with evident pride toward the +largest of the log houses. But they declined with thanks, and indicated +that they would camp a short distance below the village where a more +gently sloping bank gave promise of ascent for the heavily loaded +toboggans. As they proceeded along the foot of the bank, an Indian +lurched from one of the skin dwellings, and leered foolishly at them +from the top of the bank. Sounds issued from the shack as of voices +raised in quarrel, and Connie and 'Merican Joe exchanged glances as they +passed on to their camping place. + +An hour later as they were finishing their supper, an Indian stepped +abruptly out of the darkness, and stood blinking at them just within the +circle of light from the little fire. He was the Indian they had seen +lurch from the dwelling. + +"Hello," said Connie, "what do you want?" The Indian continued to stare, +and Connie tried jargon. "_Iktah mika tika?_" But still the man did not +answer so the boy turned him over to 'Merican Joe who tried out several +dialects and gave it up. The Indian disappeared as abruptly as he had +come, and a few moments later stepped again into the firelight. This +time he carried a large beaver skin which he extended for inspection. +Connie passed it over to 'Merican Joe. + +"Is it a good skin?" he asked. + +"Good skin," assented 'Merican Joe, "Wan' ver' big beaver ..." + +"How much?" asked Connie, making signs to indicate a trade. + +The Indian grunted a single word. "_Hooch!_" + +"Oh--ho, so that's it!" cried the boy. "I knew it when I saw him the +first time. And I knew that trail we've been following this afternoon +didn't look right. I had a hunch!" + +He handed the Indian his skin and shook his head. "No got _hooch_." It +took the man several minutes to realize that there was no liquor +forthcoming, and when he did, he turned and left the fire with every +evidence of anger. Not long after he had gone, another Indian appeared +with the same demand. In vain Connie tried to question him, but +apparently he knew no more English or jargon than the first. + +"We've got to figure out some scheme to gum that dirty pup's game!" +cried the boy. "I just wish I was back in the Mounted for about a week! +I'd sure make that bird live hard! But in the Mounted or out of it, I'm +going to make him quit his whiskey peddling, or some one is going to get +hurt!" + +'Merican Joe looked puzzled. "W'at you care 'bout dat? W'at dat mak' you +mad som' wan sell Injun de _hooch_?" + +"What do _I_ care! I care because it's a dirty, low-lived piece of work! +These Injuns need every bit of fur they can trap to buy grub and +clothes with. When they get _hooch_, they pay a big price--and they pay +it in grub and clothes that their women and children need!" + +'Merican Joe shrugged philosophically, and at that moment another Indian +stepped into the firelight. It was the man who had insisted upon their +staying with him, and who Connie remembered had spoken a few words of +English. + +"You looking for _hooch_, too?" asked the boy. + +The Indian shook his head vigorously. "No. _Hooch_ bad. Mak' Injun bad. +No good!" + +Connie shoved the teapot into the coals and motioned the man to be +seated, and there beside the little fire, over many cups of strong tea, +the boy and 'Merican Joe, by dint of much questioning and much sign talk +to help out the little English and the few words of jargon the man knew, +succeeded finally in learning the meaning of the white man's trail in +the snow. They learned that the Indians were Dog Ribs who had drifted +from the Blackwater country and settled in their present location last +fall because two of their number had wintered there the previous year +and had found the trapping good, and the supply of fish and rabbits +inexhaustible. They had done well with their traps, but they had killed +very few caribou during the winter, and the current of the river had +taken many of their nets and swept them away under the ice. The rabbits +were not as plentiful as they had been earlier in the fall, and there +was much hunger in the camp. + +They traded as usual, and had gotten "debt" at Fort Norman last summer +before they moved their camp. Later in the summer two men had come along +in a canoe and told them that they would come back before the mid-winter +trading. They said they would sell goods much cheaper than the Hudson's +Bay Company, or the Northern Trading Company, and that they would also +have some _hooch_--which cannot be obtained from the big companies. + +Yesterday one of these men came into the camp. He had a few bottles of +_hooch_ which he traded for some very good fox skins, and promised to +return in six days with the other man and two sled loads of goods. He +told them that they did not have to pay their debt to the companies at +Fort Norman because everything at the fort had burned down--all the +stores and all the houses and the men had gone away down the river and +that they would not return. The Indians had been making ready to go to +the fort to trade, but when they heard that the fort was burned they +decided to wait for the free traders. Also many of the young men wanted +to trade with the free traders because they could get the _hooch_. + +The Indian said he was very sorry that the fort had burned, because he +did not like the free traders, and he wanted to pay his debt to the +company, but if there was nobody there it would be no use to make the +long trip for nothing. + +When he finished Connie sat for some time thinking. Then, producing a +worn notebook and the stub of a pencil from his pocket he wrote upon a +leaf and tore it from the book. When he spoke it was to 'Merican Joe. +"How long will it take you to make Fort Norman travelling light?" he +asked. + +"'Bout fi', six, day." + +"That will be ten or twelve days there and back," figured the boy, as he +handed him the note. + +"All right. You start in the morning, and you go with him," he added, +turning to the Indian. + +"That white man lied! There has been no fire at the fort. He wants to +get your skins, and so he lied. You go and see for yourself. The rest +of them here won't believe me if I tell them he lied--especially as the +young men want the _hooch_. I have written McTavish to send someone, +back with you who has the authority to arrest these free traders. I'm +going to stay to get the evidence. In the meantime you send your hunters +on our back trail and they will find many caribou. Divide the meat we +have on the sleds among the people--the women and the children. It will +last till the men return with the meat. I am going to follow the free +traders to their camp." + +It took time and patience to explain all this to the Indian but once he +got the idea into his head he was anxious to put the plan into effect. +He slipped away and returned with two other Indians, and the whole +matter had to be gone over again. At the conclusion, one of them agreed +to accompany Connie, and the other to distribute the meat, and to lead +the caribou hunt, so after unloading the sleds and making up the light +trail outfits, they all retired to get a few hours' sleep for the +strenuous work ahead. How well they succeeded and how the free +traders--but, as Mr. Kipling has said, that is another story. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +AT THE CAMP OF THE _HOOCH_-RUNNERS + + +The late winter dawn had not yet broken when the little camp on the +outskirts of the Indian village was struck and two dog teams drawing +lightly loaded toboggans slipped silently into the timber. When out of +sight and sound of the village the two outfits parted. + +Connie Morgan, accompanied by an Indian named Ton-Kan, swung his great +lead-dog, Leloo, to the eastward, crossed the river, and struck out on +the trail of the free trader; while 'Merican Joe with Pierre Bonnet +Rouge, the Indian who had told them of the free trader's plans, headed +north-west in the direction of Fort Norman. + +It was nearly noon six days later that they shoved open the door of the +trading post and greeted McTavish, the big bewhiskered Scotchman who was +the Hudson's Bay Company's factor. + +"What are ye doin' back here--you? An' where is the lad that was with +ye? An' you, Pierre Bonnet Rouge, where is the rest of your band? An' +don't ye ken ye're two weeks ahead of time for the tradin'?" + +"_Oui, M's'u,_" answered the Indian. "But man say----" + +He was interrupted by 'Merican Joe who had been fumbling through his +pockets and now produced the note Connie had hastily scribbled upon a +leaf of his notebook. + +McTavish carried the scrap of paper to the heavily frosted window and +read it through slowly. Then he read it again, as he combed at his beard +with his fingers. Finally, he laid the paper upon the counter and +glanced toward a man who sat with his chair tilted back against the +bales of goods beyond the roaring stove. + +"Here's something for ye, Dan," he rumbled. "Ye was growlin' about +fightin' them ice _bourdillons_, here's a job t'will take ye well off +the river." + +"What's that?" asked Dan McKeever--_Inspector_ Dan McKeever, _now_, of N +Division, Royal Northwest Mounted Police. "It better be somethin' +important if it takes me off the river, 'cause I'm due back at Fort +Fitzgerald in a month." + +"It's important, all right," answered McTavish, "an lucky it is ye're +here. That's one good thing the rough ice done, anyhow. For, if it +hadn't wore out your dogs you'd be'n gone this three days. D'ye mind I +told ye I'd heard they was a free trader over in the Coppermine country? +Well, there's two of 'em, an' they're workin' south. They're right now +somewheres south of the big lake. They've run onto the Dog Ribs over +near Ste. Therese, an' they're tradin' em _hooch_!" + +"Who says so?" asked the Inspector, eying the two Indians doubtfully. + +"These two. Pierre Bonnet Rouge I have known for a good many years. He's +a good Indian. An' this other--he come in a while back with his pardner +from over on the Yukon side. His pardner is a white man, an' about as +likely a lookin' lad as I've seen. He's over there now on the trail of +the free traders an' aimin' to stand between them 'an the Indians till +someone comes with authority to arrest them." + +"Who is this party, an' what's he doin' over in that country himself?" + +"He's just a lad. An' him an' his pardner, here, are trappin'. Name's +Morgan, an----" + +Big Dan McKeever's two feet hit the floor with a bang, and he strode +rapidly forward. "_Morgan_, did you say? _Connie Morgan?_" + +'Merican Joe nodded vehemently. "Yes, him Connie Mo'gan! Him wan +_skookum tillicum_." + +The big inspector's fist smote the counter and he grinned happily. "I'll +say he's _skookum tillicum_!" he cried. "But what in the name of Pat +Feeney is he doin' over here? I heard he'd gone outside." + +"D'ye know him?" asked McTavish, in surprise. + +"_Know him!_ Know him, did you say? I do know him, an' love him! An' I'd +rather see him than the Angel Gabriel, this minute!" + +"Me, too," laughed McTavish, "I ain't ready for the angels, yet!" + +"Angels, or no angels, there's a kid that's a _man_! An' his daddy, Sam +Morgan, before him was a man! Didn't the kid serve a year with me over +in B Division? Sure, Mac, I've told you about the time he arrested +Inspector Cartwright for a whiskey runner, an'----" + +McTavish interrupted. "Yes, yes, I mind! An' didn't he fetch in +Notorious Bishop, whilst all the rest of you was tearin' out the bone +out in the hills a-huntin' him?" + +"That's the kid that done it! An' there's a whole lot more he done, too. +You don't need to worry none about yer Injuns as long as that kid's on +the job." + +"But, ye're goin' to hurry over there, ain't you? I hate to think of the +lad there alone. There's two of them traders, an' if they're peddlin' +_hooch_, they ain't goin' to care much what they do to keep from gittin' +caught." + +Dan McKeever grinned. "You don't need to worry about him. That kid will +out-guess any free trader, or any other crook that ever was born. He's +handled 'em red hot--one at a time, an' in bunches. The more they is of +'em, the better he likes 'em! Didn't he round up Bill Cosgrieve an' his +Cameron Creek gang? An' didn't he bring in four of the orneriest cusses +that ever lived when they busted the Hart River _cache_? An' he done it +alone! Everyone's got brains, Mac, an' most of us learns to use 'em--in +a way. But, that kid--he starts in figurin' where fellers like us leaves +off!" + +"But this case is different, Dan," objected the factor. "He was in the +Mounted then. But what can he do now? He ain't got the authority!" + +McKeever regarded the Scotchman with an almost pitying glance. "Mac, you +don't know that kid. But don't you go losin' no sleep over how much +authority he ain't got. 'Cause, when the time comes to use it, he'll +have the authority, all right--if he has to appoint himself +Commissioner! An' when it comes right down to cases, man to man, there's +times when a six-gun has got more authority to it than all the +commissions in the world." + +"But they're two to one against him----" + +"Yes, an' the kid could shoot patterns in the both of 'em while they was +fumblin' to draw, if he had to. But the chances is there won't be a shot +fired one way or another. He'll jest naturally out-guess 'em an' ease +'em along, painless an' onsuspectin' until he turns 'em over to me, with +the evidence all done up in a package, you might say, ready to hand to +the judge." + +McTavish smote his thigh with his open palm. "By the great horn spoon, +I'll go along an' see it done!" he cried. "We'll take my dogs an' by the +time we get back yours will be in shape again. My trader can run the +post, an' I'll bring in them Dog Ribs with me to do their tradin'." + +The Indian, Ton-Kan, who accompanied Connie proved to be a good man on +the trail. In fact, the boy wondered, as he followed with the dog team, +if the Indian did not show just a little too much eagerness. Connie knew +something of Indians, and he knew that very few of them possessed the +zeal to exert themselves for the good of the tribe. Their attitude in +regard to the troubles of others was the attitude of 'Merican Joe when +he had shrugged and asked, "W'at you care?" Pierre Bonnet Rouge, Connie +knew to be an exception, and this man might be too, but as he understood +no word of either English or jargon, and Connie knew nothing of the Dog +Rib dialect, the boy decided to take no chances, but to keep close watch +on the Indian's movements when the time for action came. + +In the afternoon of the second day Connie exchanged places with the +Indian, he himself taking the lead and letting Ton-Kan follow with the +dogs. The boy figured that if the trader had expected to be back at the +village in six days, his camp could not be more than two days away, +travelling light. That would allow him one day to pack his outfit for +the trail, and three days to reach the Indian village travelling heavy. +Therefore, he slowed the pace and proceeded cautiously. + +Connie's experience as an officer of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police +had taught him something of the law, and of the value of securing +evidence. He knew that if he himself could succeed in buying liquor from +the free traders he would have evidence against them under the Northwest +Territories Act upon two counts: having liquor in possession in +prohibited territory, and selling liquor in prohibited territory. But +what he wanted most was to get them under the Indian Act for supplying +liquor to Indians, and it was for this purpose he had brought Ton-Kan +along. The boy had formulated no plan beyond the first step, which was +to have the Indian slip into the traders' camp and purchase some liquor +in payment for which he would give a beautiful fox skin, which skin had +been carefully and cunningly marked the night before by himself and +Pierre Bonnet Rouge. With the liquor as evidence in his possession his +course would be determined entirely by circumstances. + +The early darkness was just beginning to fall when, topping a ridge, +Connie caught the faint glimmer of a light at the edge of a spruce +thicket beyond a strip of open tundra. Drawing back behind the ridge +Connie motioned to the Indian to swing the dogs into a thick clump of +stunted trees where they were soon unharnessed and tied. Loosening the +pack Connie produced the fox skin while the Indian lighted a fire. A few +moments later the boy held out the skin, pointed toward the camp of the +free traders, and uttered the single word "_hooch_." + +Notwithstanding the Indian's evident eagerness to reach the trader's +camp, he hesitated and made signs indicating that he desired to eat +supper first--and Connie's suspicion of him immediately strengthened. +The boy shook his head, and reluctantly Ton-Kan obeyed, but not without +a longing look toward the grub pack. + +When he had disappeared over the ridge Connie hastily bolted some +bannocks and a cold leg of rabbit. Then he fed the dogs, looked to his +service revolver which he carried carefully concealed beneath his +mackinaw, slipped Leloo's leash, and moved silently out on to the trail +of the Indian. Skirting the tundra, he kept in the scrub, and as he +worked his way cautiously toward the light he noted with satisfaction +that his own trail would excite no suspicion among the network of +snowshoe tracks that the free traders had made in visiting their rabbit +snares. In the fast gathering darkness the boy concealed himself in a +bunch of willows which commanded a view of the door and window of the +tiny cabin that lay half-buried in the snow. It was an old cabin +evidently, rechinked by the free traders. The light shone dully through +the little square window pane of greased paper. The Indian had already +been admitted and Connie could see dim shadows move across the pane. The +great wolf-dog crept close and, throwing his arm about the animal's +neck, the boy cuddled close against the warm shaggy coat. A few minutes +later the door opened and Ton-Kan reappeared. Immediately it slammed +shut, and Connie could dimly make out that the Indian was fastening on +his snowshoes. Presently he stood erect and, as the boy had expected, +instead of striking out for camp across the open tundra, he gave a +hurried glance about him and plunged into the timber. + +Instantly the boy was on his feet. "I thought so, Leloo," he grinned. +"I thought he was awfully anxious to get that _hooch_. And when he +wanted to wait and eat supper first, I knew that he figured on pulling +out and wanted a full belly to travel on." + +"He won't travel very far nor very fast," muttered the boy, as he +circled the little clearing. "Because it's a cinch he didn't get +anything to eat out of those birds--they'd take the fox skin for the +_hooch_, and they're not giving away grub." Leloo walked beside him, +ears erect, and every now and then as they glanced into the boy's face, +the smouldering yellow eyes seemed to flash understanding. + +Darkness had settled in earnest, and it was no easy task to pick up the +trail in the scrub among the crisscrossed trails of the free traders, +especially as the boy did not dare to strike a light. He had carefully +studied the Indian's tracks as he had mushed along behind the dogs until +he knew every detail of their impression, but in the darkness all trails +looked alike. Time and again he stooped and with his face close to the +snow, examined the tracks. Time and again he picked up the trail only to +lose it a moment later. Then Leloo took a hand in the game. Connie's +attention was drawn to the dog by a low whine, and stopping he found the +great animal sniffing the fresh trail. "Good old dog!" whispered the +boy, patting the great head. Understanding what was wanted the wolf-dog +bounded off on the trail, but Connie called him back. "If I only dared!" +he exclaimed under his breath. "You'd run him down in five minutes--but +when you did--what then?" The boy shuddered at the recollection of the +stricken caribou and the swift silent rush with which the great silvered +brute had launched himself upon them. "I'm afraid you wouldn't savvy the +difference," he grinned, "and I don't want old Ton-Kan cut plumb in two. +If you'd only throw him down and hold him, or tree him like you did the +_loup cervier_, we'd have him in a hurry--and some time I'm going to +train you to do it." A sudden thought struck the boy as he met the +glance of the glowing yellow eyes. "If I had something to tie you with, +I'd start the training right now," he exclaimed. A hasty search of his +pockets produced a length of the heavy line that he and 'Merican Joe +used for fishing through the ice. + +It was but the work of a moment to secure the line about the neck of +the wolf-dog and lead him to the spot where he had nosed out the +Indian's trail. With a low whine of understanding the great beast struck +straight into the timber, the confusion of tracks that had thrown Connie +completely off in the darkness, offering no obstacle whatever to the +keen-scented dog. As Connie had anticipated, Ton-Kan did not travel far +before stopping to sample the contents of the bottle. A half-hour after +the boy took the trail he pulled the straining Leloo to a stand and +peered through the scrub toward a spot at the edge of a thick windfall +where the Indian squatted beside a tiny fire. Holding Leloo close in, +Connie silently worked his way to within twenty feet of where the Indian +sat, bottle in hand, beside his little fire. The man drank from the +bottle, replaced the cork, rose to his feet, and with a grunt of +satisfaction, rubbed his stomach with his mittened hand. Then he +carefully placed the bottle in the snow, and moved toward a small dead +spruce to procure firewood. It was but the work of a moment for Connie +to secure the bottle, and at the sound Ton-Kan whirled to find himself +confronted by the smiling boy. With an exclamation of rage the Indian +sprang to recover his bottle, and the next instant drew back in terror +at sight of Leloo who had stepped in front of the boy, the hair of his +huge ruff a-quiver, the delicately pointed nose wrinkled to expose the +gleaming white fangs, and the yellow eyes glowing like live coals. + +"Thought you'd kind of slip one over on me, did you?" smiled the boy as +he made signs for the Indian to follow, and headed for the sled. "You +did drink part of the evidence, but we've got enough left to hold those +birds for a while--and I'm going to get more." + +The boy led the way back to the sled with Ton-Kan following dejectedly, +and while the Indian ate his supper, Connie did some rapid thinking. The +meal over he took the Indian's blankets from the sled and, together with +a two days' supply of grub, made them into a pack, which he handed to +Ton-Kan and motioned for him to hit the back trail. At first the Indian +feigned not to understand, then he protested that he was tired, but the +boy was unmoved. When Ton-Kan flatly refused to leave camp Connie drew +his watch from his pocket, held up three fingers, meaningly, and called +Leloo to his side. One glance at the great white wolf-dog with his +bristling ruff settled the argument, and with a grunt of fear, the +Indian snatched up his pack and struck out on the back trail with an +alacrity that belied any thought of weariness. Alone in the camp the boy +grinned into the embers of the little fire. "The next question," he +muttered to himself, "is where do I go from here? Getting rid of Ton-Kan +gets the odds down to two to one against me, but what will I do? I +haven't got any right to arrest 'em. I can't stay here, because they'll +be hitting the back trail for the Indian camp in the morning, and the +first thing they'll do will be to run on to my trail. Then they'll +figure the Mounted is on to them and they'll beat it, and make a clean +get-away. That would keep the _hooch_ away from this bunch of Indians, +but they'd trade it to the next bunch they came to. I ain't going to let +'em get away! I started out to get 'em and I will get 'em, somehow. +Guess the best way would be to go straight to the shack and figure out +what to do when I get there." Suiting the action to the word, the boy +carefully cached the bottle of liquor and packed his outfit. Then he +harnessed his dogs. When it came the turn of the leader, he whistled +for Leloo, but the great wolf-dog was not to be found. With a sudden +fear in his heart, the boy glanced toward the back trail. Had the great +brute understood that Connie and the Indian were at outs and had he +struck out on the trail to settle the matter in his own way? Swiftly the +boy fastened on his snowshoes, and overturning the sled to hold the +other dogs, he headed back along the trail. He had gone but a few steps, +however, before he halted and pushing the cap from his ears, listened. +From a high ridge to the northward, in the opposite direction from that +taken by the Indian, came the long howl of a great grey caribou-wolf, +and a moment later came an answering call--the weird blood-chilling, +terrible cry of the big white wolf-dog. And then Connie returned to his +outfit, for he knew that that night Leloo would run with the hunt-pack. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE PASSING OF BLACK MORAN + + +A string of curses that consigned all Indians to regions +_infra-mundane_, greeted Connie's knock upon the door of the cabin of +the free traders. + +"I'm not an Indian!" answered the boy. "Open the door and let a fellow +in! What's the matter with you?" + +Connie could hear muttered conversation, as one of the occupants +stumbled about the room. Presently a light was struck and the door flew +open. "Who be you, an' what d'ye want? An' what you doin' trailin' this +time o' night, anyway?" + +The man who stood framed in the doorway was of huge build, and scowling +countenance, masked for the most part by a heavy black beard. + +Connie smiled. "My partner and I are trapping over beyond the Injun +village, about forty miles southwest of here, and the Injuns told us +that there were some free traders up here some place. We're short of +grub and we thought that if we could get supplies from you it would save +us a trip clear to Fort Norman." + +"Turn yer dogs loose an' come in," growled the man, as he withdrew into +the cabin and closed the door against the cold. If Connie could have +seen, as he unharnessed his dogs, the swift glances that passed between +the two occupants of the cabin, and heard their muttered words, he would +have hesitated a long time before entering that cabin alone. But he did +not see the glances, nor did he hear the muttered words. + +As he stepped through the doorway, he was seized violently from behind. +For a moment he struggled furiously, but it was child's play for the big +man to hold him, while a small, wizened man sat in his underclothing +upon the edge of his bunk and laughed. + +"Frisk him!" commanded the big man, and the other rose from the bunk and +removed the service revolver from its holster. Then, with a vicious +shove, the big man sent Connie crashing into a chair that stood against +the opposite wall. "Sit there, you sneakin' little pup! Thought you +could fool us, did you, with yer lies about trappin'? Thought we +wouldn't know Constable Morgan, of the Mounted, did you? You was some +big noise on the Yukon, couple years back, wasn't you? Most always goin' +it alone an' makin' grandstand plays. Thought you was some stuff, didn't +you?" The man paused for breath, and Connie scrutinized his face, but +could not remember to have seen him before. He shifted his glance to the +other, who had returned to the edge of the bunk, and was regarding him +with a sneering smirk. + +"Hello, Mr. Squigg," he said, in a voice under perfect control. "Still +up to your old crookedness, are you? It's a wonder to me they've let you +live this long." + +The big man interrupted. "Know him, do you? But you don't know me. Well, +I'll tell you who I be, and I guess you'll know what yer up against. I'm +Black Moran!" + +"Black Moran!" cried the boy. "Why, Black Moran was----" + +[Illustration: "As he stepped through the doorway he was seized +violently from behind." + +Drawn by Frank E. Schoonover] + +"Was drounded when he tried to shoot them Pelly Rapids about three +jumps ahead of the police boat, was he? Well, that's what they said but +he wasn't, by a long sight. When the canoe smashed I went under all +right but the current throw'd me into a eddy, an' when the police boat +went down through the chute I was hangin' by my fingers to a rock. The +floater they found later in the lower river an' said was me, was someone +else--but I didn't take the trouble to set 'em right--not by a jug full, +I didn't. It suited me to a T." + +"So you're the specimen that murdered old man Kinney for his dust +and----" + +"Yup, I'm the party. An' they's a heft of other stuff they've got +charged up agin me--over on the Yukon side. But they ain't huntin' me, +'cause they think I'm dead." There was a cold glitter in the man's eye +and his voice took on a taunting note. "Still playin' a lone hand, eh? +Well, it got you at last, didn't it? Guess you've saw the handwritin' on +the wall by this time. You ain't a-goin' no place from here. You've +played yer string out. This here country ain't the Yukon. They ain't +nobody, nor nothin' here to prevent a man's doin' just what he wants to. +The barrens don't tell no tales. Yer smart, all right--an' you've got +the guts--that's why we ain't a-goin' to take no chances. By tomorrow +night it'll be snowin'. An' when the storm lets up, they won't be no +cabin here--just a heap of ashes in under the snow--an' you'll be part +of the ashes." + +Connie had been in many tight places in his life, but he realized as he +sat in his chair and listened to the words of Black Moran that he was at +that moment facing the most dangerous situation of his career. He knew +that unless the man had fully made up his mind to kill him he would +never have disclosed his identity. And he knew that he would not +hesitate at the killing--for Black Moran, up to the time of his supposed +drowning, had been reckoned the very worst man in the North. Escape +seemed impossible, yet the boy showed not the slightest trace of fear. +He even smiled into the face of Black Moran. "So you think I'm still +with the Mounted do you?" he asked. + +"Oh, no, we don't think nothin' like that," sneered the man. "Sure, we +don't. That there ain't no service revolver we tuk offen you. That +there's a marten trap, I s'pose. 'Course you're trappin', an' don't know +nothin' 'bout us tradin' _hooch_. What we'd ort to do is to sell you +some flour an' beans, an' let you go back to yer traps." + +"Dangerous business bumping off an officer of the Mounted," reminded +the boy. + +"Not over in here, it ain't. Special, when it's comin' on to snow. No. +They ain't no chanct in the world to git caught fer it--or even to git +blamed fer it, 'cause if they ever find what's left of you in the ashes +of the cabin, they'll think it got afire while you was asleep. Tomorrow +mornin' yo git yourn. In the meantime, Squigg, you roll in an' git some +sleep. You've got to take the outfit an' pull out early in the mornin' +an' unload that _hooch_ on to them Injuns. I'll ketch up with you 'fore +you git there, though. What I've got to do here won't take me no longer +than noon," he glanced meaningly at Connie, "an' then, we'll pull out of +this neck of the woods." + +"Might's well take the kid's dogs an' harness, they might come in +handy," ventured Mr. Squigg. + +"Take nothin!" roared Black Moran, angrily. "Not a blame thing that he's +got do we take. That's the trouble with you cheap crooks--grabbin' off +everything you kin lay yer hands on--and that's what gits you caught. +Sometime, someone would see something that they know'd had belonged to +him in our possession. Then, where'd we be? No, sir! Everything, dogs, +gun, sled, harness an' all goes into this cabin when she burns--so, shut +up, an' git to bed!" The man turned to Connie, "An' now, you kin roll up +on the floor in yer blankets an' pertend to sleep while you try to +figger a way out of this mess, or you kin set there in the chair an' +figger, whichever you want. Me--I'm a-goin' to set right here an' see +that yer figgerin' don't 'mount to nothin'--see?" The evil eyes of Black +Moran leered, and looking straight into them, Connie deliberately raised +his arms above his head and yawned. + +"Guess I'll just crawl into my blankets and sleep," he said. "I won't +bother to try and figure a way out tonight--there'll be plenty of time +in the morning." + +The boy spread his blankets and was soon fast asleep on the floor, and +Black Moran, watching him from his chair, knew that it was no feigned +sleep. "Well, of all the doggone nerve I ever seen, that beats it a +mile! Is he fool enough to think I ain't a-goin' to bump him off? That +ain't his reputashion on the Yukon--bein' a fool! It ain't noways +natural he should take it that easy. Is he workin' with a pardner, that +he expects'll git here 'fore mornin', or what? Mebbe that Injun comin' +here after _hooch_ a while back was a plant." The more the man thought, +the more uneasy he became. He got up and placed the two rifles upon the +table close beside him, and returned to his chair where he sat, +straining his ears to catch the faintest night sounds. He started +violently at the report of a frost-riven tree, and the persistent +rubbing of a branch against the edge of the roof set his nerves +a-jangle. And so it was that while the captive slept, the captor worried +and fretted the long night through. + +Long before daylight, Black Moran awoke Squigg and made him hit the +trail. "If they's another policeman along the back trail, he'll run on +to Squigg, an' I'll have time fer a git-away," he thought, but he kept +the thought to himself. + +When the man was gone, Black Moran turned to Connie who was again seated +in his chair against the wall. "Want anything to eat?" he asked. + +"Why, sure, I want my breakfast. Kind of a habit I've got--eating +breakfast." + +"Say!" exploded the man, "what ails you anyway? D'you think I'm +bluffin'? Don't you know that you ain't only got a few hours to +live--mebbe only a few minutes?" + +"So I heard you say;" answered the boy, dryly. "But, how about +breakfast?" + +"Cook it, confound you! There it is. If you figger to pot me while _I'm_ +gittin' it, you lose. I'm a-goin' to set right here with this gun in my +hand, an' the first move you make that don't look right--out goes yer +light." + +Connie prepared breakfast, while the other eyed him closely. And, as he +worked, he kept up his air of bravado--but it was an air he was far from +feeling. He knew Black Moran by reputation, and he knew that unless a +miracle happened his own life was not a worth a gun-wad. All during the +meal which they ate with Black Moran's eyes upon him, and a gun in his +hand, Connie's wits were busy. But no feasible plan of escape presented +itself, and the boy knew that his only chance was to play for time in +hope that something might turn up. + +"You needn't mind to clean up them dishes," grinned the man. "They'll +burn dirty as well as clean. Git yer hat, now, an' we'll git this +business over with. First, git them dogs in the cabin, an' the sled an' +harness. Move lively, 'cause I got to git a-goin'. Every scrap of stuff +you've got goes in there. I don't want nothin' left that could ever be +used as evidence. It's clouded up already an' the snow'll take care of +the tracks." As he talked, the two had stepped out the door, and Connie +stood beside his sled about which were grouped his dogs. The boy saw +that Leloo was missing, and glanced about, but no sign of the great +wolf-dog was visible. "Stand back from that sled!" ordered the man, as +he strode to its side. "Guess I'll jest look it over to see if you've +got another gun." The man jerked the tarp from the pack, and seizing the +rifle tossed it into the cabin. Then he slipped his revolver into its +holster and picked up Connie's heavy dog-whip. As he did so Connie +caught just a glimpse of a great silver-white form gliding noiselessly +toward him from among the tree trunks. The boy noted in a flash that the +cabin cut off the man's view of the wolf-dog. And instantly a ray of +hope flashed into his brain. Leloo was close beside the cabin, when with +a loud cry, Connie darted forward and, seizing a stick of firewood from +a pile close at hand, hurled it straight at Black Moran. The chunk +caught the man square in the chest. It was a light chunk, and could not +have possibly harmed him, but it did exactly what Connie figured it +would do--it drove him into a sudden rage--_with the dog-whip in his +hand._ With a curse the man struck out with the whip, and as its lash +bit into Connie's back, the boy gave a loud yell of pain. + +At the corner of the cabin, Leloo saw the boy throw the stick. He saw it +strike the man. And he saw the man lash out with the whip. Also, he +heard the boy's cry of pain. As the man's arm drew back to strike again, +there was a swift, silent rush of padded feet, and Black Moran turned +just in time to see a great silvery-white shape leave the snow and +launch itself straight at him. He saw, in a flash, the red tongue and +the gleaming white fangs, and the huge white ruff, each hair of which +stuck straight out from the great body. + +A single shrill shriek of mortal terror resounded through the forest, +followed by a dull thud, as man and wolf-dog struck the snow together. +And then--the silence of the barrens. + +It was long past noon. The storm predicted by Black Moran had been +raging for hours, and for hours the little wizened man who had left the +cabin before dawn had been plodding at the head of his dogs. At +intervals of an hour or so he would stop and strain his eyes to pierce +the boiling white smother of snow that curtained the back-trail. Then he +would plod on, glancing to the right and to the left. + +The over-burden of snow slipping from a spruce limb brushed his parka +and he shrieked aloud, for the feel of it was a feel of a heavy hand +upon his shoulder. Farther on he brought up trembling in every limb at +the fall of a wind-broken tree. The snapping of dead twigs as the spruce +wallowed to earth through the limbs of the surrounding trees sounded in +his ears like--the crackling of flames--flames that licked at the dry +logs of a--burning cabin. A dead limb cracked loudly and the man +crouched in fear. The sound was the sound of a pistol shot from +behind--from the direction of Black Moran. + +"Why don't he come?" whispered the wizened man. "What did he send me +alone for? Thought I didn't have the nerve fer--fer--what he was goin' +to do. An' I ain't, neither. I wisht I had--but, I ain't." The man +shuddered: "It's done by this time, an'--why don't he come? What did I +throw in with him fer? I'm afraid of him. If he thought I stood in his +way he'd bump me off like he'd squ'sh a fly that was bitin' him. If I +thought I could git away with it, I'd hit out right now--but I'm afraid. +If he caught me--" The wizened man shuddered and babbled on, "An' if he +didn't, the Mounted would. An' if they didn't--" again he paused, and +glanced furtively into the bush. "They _is_ things in the woods that men +don't know! I've heered 'em--an' seen 'em, too. They _is_ ghosts! And +they _do_ ha'nt men down. They're white, an--it's beginnin' to git dark! +Why don't Moran come? I'd ruther have him, than _them_--an' now there's +another one of 'em--to raise out of the ashes of a fire! I'd ort to +camp, but if I keep a pluggin' along mebbe I kin git to the Injun +village. 'Taint fur, now--acrost this flat an' then dip down onto the +river--What's that!" The man halted abruptly and stared. "It's one of +'em now!" he faltered, with tongue and lips that felt stiff. "An' it's +covered with fine white ashes!" He knew that he was trembling in every +limb, as he stared at the snow-covered object that stood stiffly beside +the trail only a few yards ahead. "Nuthin' but a stump," he said, and +laughed, quaveringly. "Sure--it's a stump--with snow on it. I remember +that stump. No--it wasn't here where the stump was. Yes, it was. It +looks different with the snow on it. Gosh, a'mighty, it's a ghost! No +'taint--'taint moved. That's the stump. I remember it. I says to Moran, +'There's a stump.' An' Moran says, 'Yup, that's a stump.'" He cut +viciously at his dogs with the whip. "Hi yu there! Mush-u!" + +At the door of the little cabin Connie Morgan stared wide-eyed at the +thing that lay in the snow. Schooled as he was to playing a man's part +in the drama of the last great frontier, the boy stood horror-stricken +at the savage suddenness of the tragedy that had been enacted before his +eyes. A few seconds before, he had been in the power of Black Moran, +known far and wide as the hardest man in the North. And, now, there was +no Black Moran--only a grotesquely sprawled _thing_--and a slush of +crimson snow. The boy was conscious of no sense of regret--no thought of +self-condemnation--for he knew too well the man's record. This man who +had lived in open defiance of the laws of God and of man had met swift +death at the hand of the savage law of the North. The law that the men +of the outlands do not seek to explain, but believe in +implicitly--because they have seen the workings of that law. It is an +inexorable law, cruel, and cold, and hard--as hard as the land it +governs with its implacable justice. It is the law of retribution--and +its sentence is PAY. + +Black Moran had paid. He had played his string out--had come to the end +of his trail. And Connie knew that justice had been done. Nevertheless, +as the boy stood there in the silence of the barrens and stared down at +the sprawling form, he felt strangely impressed--horrified. For, after +all, Black Moran had been a human being, and one--the boy shuddered at +the thought--who, with murder in his heart, had been ill equipped for +passing suddenly into the presence of his God. + +With tight-pressed lips the boy dragged the body into the cabin and +covered it with a blanket, and then, swiftly, he recovered his rifle and +revolver, harnessed his dogs, and struck out on the trail of Squigg. An +hour after the storm struck, the trail was obliterated. Here and there, +where it cut through thick spruce copses, he could make it out but by +noon he knew he was following only its general direction. He knew also +that by bearing slightly to the southward he would strike the river that +led to the village of the Indians. + +It was nearly dark when he came out upon a flat that even in the gloom +and the whirling snow he recognized as the beaver meadow from which the +trail dipped to the river. Upon the edge of it he halted to examine the +spruce thickets along its western side, for signs of the trail of +Squigg, and it was while so engaged that he looked up to see dimly in +the white smother the form of the man and his dog-team. The man halted +suddenly and seemed to be staring at him. Connie stood motionless in his +tracks, waiting. For a long time the man stood peering through the +flying snow, then the boy saw his arm raise, heard the crack of his +whiplash, and then the sound of his voice--high-pitched and unnatural it +sounded coming out of the whirling gloom: "Hi yu, there! Mush-u!" + +Not until Squigg was within ten feet of him did the boy move, then he +stepped directly into the trail. A low, mewling sound quavered from the +man's lips, and he collapsed like an empty bag. + +"Stand up!" ordered the boy, in disgust. But instead of obeying, the +man grovelled and weltered about in the snow, all the while emitting an +incoherent, whimpering wail. Connie reached down to snatch the man to +his feet, when suddenly he started back in horror. For the wailing +suddenly ceased, and in his ears, high and shrill, sounded a peal of +maniacal laughter. The eyes of the man met his own in a wild glare, +while peal after peal of the horrible laughter hurtled from between the +parchment-like lips that writhed back to expose the snaggy, gum-shrunken +teeth. + +Horrible as had been the sight of Black Moran lying in the +blood-reddened snow, the sight of Squigg wallowing in the trail and the +sound of his weird laughter, were far more horrible. The laughter +ceased, the man struggled to his feet and fixed Connie with his +wild-eyed stare, as he advanced toward him with a peculiar loose-limbed +waddle: "I know you! I know you!" he shrilled. "I heard the flames +cracklin', an' snappin'! An' now you've got me, an' Moran's comin' an' +you'll git him, an' we'll all be ghosts together--all of us--an' we'll +stand like stumps by the trail! I'm a stump! I'm a stump! Ha, ha, ha. +He, he, he! I'm a stump! I'm a stump!" + +"Shut up!" cried Connie in desperation, as he strove to master an +almost overwhelming impulse to turn and fly from the spot. "Crazy as a +loon," thought the boy, with a shudder, "and I've got to take him clear +to Fort Norman, alone!" "I'm a stump, I'm a stump," chanted the man, +shrilly, and the boy saw that he had come to a rigid stand close beside +the trail. + +With a final effort Connie pulled himself together. "I've got it to do, +and I'll do it," he muttered between clenched teeth. "But, gee whiz! It +will take a week to get to Fort Norman!" + +"I'm a stump, I'm a stump," came the monotonous chant, from the rigid +figure beside the trail. + +"Sure, you're a stump," the boy encouraged, "and if you'll only stick to +it till I get the tent up and a fire going, you'll help like the +dickens." + +Hurrying to his dogs the boy swung them in, and in the fast gathering +darkness and whirling snow he worked swiftly and skillfully in pitching +the little tent and building a fire. When the task was finished and the +little flames licked about his blackened teapot, he sliced some fat +pork, threw a piece of caribou steak in the frying pan, and set it on +the fire. Then he walked over to where Squigg stood repeating his +monotonous formula. + +"Grub's ready," announced the boy. + +"I'm a stump. I'm a stump." + +"Sure you are. But it's time to eat." + +"I'm a stump, I'm a stump," reiterated the man. + +Connie took hold of him and essayed to lead him to the fire, but the man +refused to budge. + +"As long as you stay as stiff as that I could pick you up and carry you +to the tent, but suppose you change your mind and think you're a buzz +saw? Guess I'll just slip a _babiche_ line on you to make sure." The man +took not the slightest notice as the boy wound turn after turn of line +about his arms and legs and secured the ends. Then he picked him up and +carried him to the tent where he laid him upon the blankets. But try as +he would, not a mouthful of food would the man take, so Connie ate his +supper, and turned in. + +In the morning he lashed Squigg to the sled and with both outfits of +dogs struck out for Fort Norman. And never till his dying day will the +boy forget the nightmare of that long snow-trail. + +Two men to the sled, alternating between breaking trail and handling the +dogs, and work at the gee-pole, is labour enough on the trail. But +Connie had two outfits of dogs, and no one to help. He was in a +snow-buried wilderness, back-trailing from memory the route taken by the +Bear Lake Indians who had guided him into the country. And not only was +he compelled to do the work of four men on the trail, but his camp work +was more than doubled. For Squigg had to be fed forcibly, and each +morning he had to be lashed to the sled, where he lay all day, howling, +and laughing, and shrieking. At night he had to be unloaded and tended +like a baby, and then put to bed where he would laugh and scream, the +whole night through or else lie and whimper and pule like a beast in +pain. + +On the fifth day they came suddenly upon the noon camp of the party from +Fort Norman, and before Connie could recognize the big man in the +uniform of an Inspector of the Mounted he was swung by strong arms clear +of the ground. The next moment he was sobbing excitedly and pounding the +shoulders of Big Dan McKeever with both his fists in an effort to break +the bear-like embrace. + +"Why, you doggone little _tillicum_!" roared the man, "I know'd you'd do +it! Didn't I tell you, Mac? Didn't I tell you he'd out-guess 'em? An' +he's got the evidence, too, I'll bet a dog! But, son--what's the matter? +Gosh sakes! I never seen you _cryin'_ before! Tell me quick, son--what's +the matter?" + +Connie, ashamed of the sobs that shook his whole body, smiled into the +big man's face as he leaned heavily against his shoulder: +"It's--nothing, Dan! Only--I've been five days and nights on the trail +with--_that_!" He pointed toward the trussed figure upon the sled, just +as a wild peal of the demoniacal laughter chilled the hearts of the +listeners. "And--I'm worn out." + +"For the love of Mike!" cried the big Inspector, after Connie lay asleep +beside the fire. "Think of it, Mac! Five days an' five nights! An' two +outfits!" + +"I'm sayin' the lad's a man!" exclaimed the Scotchman, as he shuddered +at an outburst of raving from Squigg. "But, why did he bring the other +sled? He should have turned the dogs loose an' left it." + +For answer McKeever walked over to Squiggs' sled and threw back the +tarp. Then he pointed to its contents. "The evidence," he answered, +proudly. "I knew he'd bring in the evidence." + +"Thought they was two of 'em, son," said McKeever, hours later when +they all sat down to supper. "Did the other one get away?" + +The boy shook his head. "No, he didn't get away. Leloo, there, caught +him. He couldn't get away from Leloo." + +"Where is he?" + +Connie glanced at the big officer curiously: "Do you know who the other +one was?" he asked. + +"No. Who was it?" + +"Black Moran." + +"Black Moran! What are you talkin' about! Black Moran was drowned in the +Pelly Rapids!" + +"No, he wasn't," answered the boy. "He managed to get to shore, and then +he skipped to the other side of the mountains. The body they pulled out +of the river was someone else." + +"But--but, son," the big Inspector's eyes were serious, "if I had known +it was _him_--Black Moran--he was the hardest man in the North--by all +odds." + +"Yes--I know," replied the boy, thoughtfully. "But, Dan, he PAID. His +score is settled now. I forgot to tell you that when Leloo caught +him--he cut him half in two." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +SETTING THE FOX TRAPS + + +After turning over the prisoner to Inspector McKeever, Connie Morgan and +'Merican Joe accompanied the men from Fort Norman back to the Indian +village where they found that the party of hunters had succeeded in +locating the caribou herd and had made a big kill, so that it had been +unnecessary for the men to use any of the _cached_ meat. + +Preparation was at once started by the entire population to accompany +McTavish back to the post for the mid-winter trading. In the Indian's +leisurely method of doing things these preparations would take three or +four days, so Pierre Bonnet Rouge, who seemed to be a sort of chief +among them, dispatched some of his young men to haul in all the meat +that the two partners had _cached_. Meanwhile, leaving Mr. Squigg at the +village in the care of McTavish, Connie piloted Inspector McKeever to +the little cabin of the free traders. For McKeever had known Black Moran +over on the Yukon, and had spent much time in trying to run him down in +the days before his reported drowning, and he desired to make absolutely +sure of his ground before turning in his report upon the death of so +notorious a character. + +Connie had placed the man's body in the cabin, and as the two pushed +open the door Dan McKeever stepped forward and raised the blanket with +which the boy had covered it. The big officer stooped and peered into +the face of the dead man. Finally, he rose to his feet with a nod: "Yes, +that's Black Moran, all right. But, gosh, son! If I'd know'd it was him +that you was up against over here, I wouldn't have been so easy in my +mind. You sure done a big thing for the North when you got him." + +"I didn't get him, Dan. It was Leloo that got him--look there!" + +McKeever stooped again and breaking back the blood-soaked clothing +examined the long deep gash that extended from the man's lower ribs to +the point of his hip. Then he turned and eyed Leloo who stood looking on +with blazing eyes, his great silver ruff a-quiver. "Some dog!" he +exclaimed. "Or is he a dog? Look at them eyes--part dog, part wolf, an' +mostly devil, I'd say. Look out, son, if he ever goes wrong. Black Moran +looks like he'd be'n gashed with a butcher's cleaver! But, at that, you +can't lay all the credit on the dog. He done his share all right, but +the head work--figurin' out jest what Black Moran would do, an' jest +what the dog would do, an' throwin' that chunk at jest the right second +to make 'em do it--that's where the brains an' the nerve comes in----" + +"It was mostly luck," interrupted Connie. + +The big officer grinned. "Uh-huh," he grunted, "but I've noticed that if +there's about two hundred per cent brains kind of mixed in with the +luck, a man's got a better show of winnin' out in the long run--an' +that's what you do." + +"What will we do with him?" asked the boy after McKeever had finished +photographing the body, and the wolf-dog, and Connie, and such of the +surroundings as should be of interest in connection with his report. + +"Well, believe me," answered the officer, "I ain't goin' to dig no grave +for him in this frozen ground. We'll jest throw a platform together in +that clump of trees, an' stick him up Injun fashion. I'd cremate him, +like he was goin' to do to you, but he was so doggone tough I don't +believe nothin' would burn but his whiskers, an' besides I don't want to +burn the cabin. It's got a stove, an' it might save some poor fellow's +life sometime." + +The early winter darkness had fallen when the work was finished, and +Connie and McKeever decided to wait until morning before striking out +for the village. + +After supper the big Inspector filled his pipe and glanced about the +little room. "Seems like old times, son--us bein' on trail together. +Don't you never feel a hankerin' to be back in the service? An' how +comes it you're trappin' way over here? Did you an' Waseche Bill go +broke? If you did, you've always got a job in the service, an' it beats +trappin' at that." + +Connie laughed. "You bet, Dan, if I ever need a job I'll hit straight +for you. But the fact is Waseche and I have got a big thing over at Ten +Bow--regular outfit, with steam point drills and a million dollars' +worth of flumes and engines and buildings and things----" + +"Then, what in time are you doin' over here trappin' with a Siwash?" + +"Oh, just wanted to have a look at the country. I'll tell you, Dan, +hanging around town gets on my nerves--even a town like Ten Bow. I like +to be out in the open where a fellow has got room enough to take a good +deep breath without getting it second-handed, and where you don't have +to be bumping into someone every time you turn around. You know what I +mean, Dan--a long trail that you don't know the end of. Northern lights +in the night-sky. Valleys, and mountains, and rivers, and lakes that +maybe no white man has ever seen before, and a good outfit of +dogs--that's playing the game. You never know what's going to +happen--and when it does happen it's always worth while, whether it's +striking a colour, or bringing in _hooch_-runners." + +The big Inspector nodded. "Sure, I know. There ain't nothin' that you +know the end of that's worth doin'. It's always what lies jest beyond +the next ridge, or across the next valley that a man wants to see. +Mostly, when you get there you're disappointed--but suppose you are? +There's always another ridge, or another valley, jest beyond. An' if +you keep on goin' you're bound to find somethin' somewheres that's worth +all the rest of the disappointments. And sometime, son, we're goin' to +find the thing that's bigger, or stronger, or smarter than we are--an' +then it'll get us. But that's where the fun comes in." + +"That's it, exactly!" cried the boy his eyes shining, "and believe me, +Dan--that's going to be some big adventure--there at the end of the last +trail! It'll be worth all the others--just to _be there_!" + +"Down in the cities, they don't think like we do. They'd ruther plug +along--every day jest like the days that's past, an' jest like all the +days that's comin'." + +Connie interrupted him: "Down in the cities I don't care what they +think! I've been in cities, and I _hate_ 'em. I'm glad they don't think +like we do, or they'd be up here plastering their houses, and factories, +and stores all over our hills and valleys." + +"Wonder who stuck this shack up here," smiled McKeever, glancing +inquisitively around the room. "Looks like it had been here quite a +while. You can see where Black Moran an' Squigg rammed in fresh +chinkin'." + +Connie nodded. "Some prospector or trapper, I guess. I wonder what +became of him?" + +McKeever shook his head. "Maybe McTavish would know. There's nothin' +here that would tell. If he pulled out he took everything along but the +stove, an' if he didn't the Injuns an' the Eskimos have carried off all +the light truck. There was a fellow name of Dean--James Dean, got lost +in this country along about six or seven years back. I was lookin' over +the records the other day, an' run across the inquiry about him. That +was long before my time in N Division. There was a note or two in the +records where he'd come into the country a couple of years before he'd +disappeared, an' had traded at Fort Norman an' at Wrigley. The last seen +of him he left Fort Norman with some supplies--grub an' powder. He was +prospectin' an' trappin'--an' no one ever seen him since. He was a good +man, too--accordin' to reports. He wasn't no _chechako_." + +"There you are!" exclaimed Connie, "just what we were talking about. I'd +give a lot to know what happened at the end of his trail. I've seen the +end of a lot of those trails--and always the signs told the story of the +last big adventure. And always it was worth while. And, good or bad, it +was always a man's game they played--and they came to a man's end." + +"Gee, Dan, in cities men die in their beds!" + +Upon the evening before the departure of the Indians who were to +accompany McTavish and McKeever back to Fort Norman for the mid-winter +trading, Connie Morgan, the factor, and the big officer sat in the cabin +of Pierre Bonnet Rouge and talked of many things. The owner of the cabin +stoked the fire and listened in silence to the talk, proud that the +white men had honoured his house with their presence. + +"You've be'n in this country quite a while, Mac," said Inspector +McKeever, as he filled his pipe from a buckskin pouch. "You must have +know'd something about a party name of James Dean. He's be'n reported +missin' since six or seven years back."' + +"Know'd him well," answered McTavish. "He was a good man, too. Except, +maybe a leetle touched in the head about gold. Used to trap some, an' +for a couple of years he come in twice a year for the tradin'. Then, +one time he never come back. The Mounted made some inquiries a couple +years later, but that's all I know'd. He had a cabin down in this +country some place, but they couldn't find it--an' the Injuns didn't +seem to know anything about him. Pierre, here, would know, if anyone +did." He turned to the Indian and addressed him in jargon. "_Kumtux +Boston man nem James Dean?_" + +The Indian fidgeted uneasily, and glanced nervously, first toward one +window and then the other. "_S'pose memaloose_," he answered shortly, +and putting on his cap, abruptly left the room. + +"Well, what do you think of that?" exclaimed McKeever. "Says he thinks +he's dead, and then up an' beat it. The case might stand a little +investigatin' yet. Looks to me like that Injun knew a whole lot more +than he told." + +McTavish shook his head. "No, Dan, I don't think ye're right. Leastways, +not altogether. I've known this band of Indians for years. They're all +right. And Pierre Bonnet Rouge is the best one of the lot. His actions +were peculiar, but they were actions of fear, not of guilt or of a man +trying to cover up guilty knowledge. He believes Dean is dead--and for +some reason, he fears his ghost." + +"The factor is right," agreed Connie. "There's some kind of a +_tamahnawus_ that he's afraid of--and somehow he believes it's connected +with Dean." + +McKeever nodded. "That's about the size of it. And when you run up +against their superstitions, you might as well save your time as far as +any investigatin' goes. I'd like to know what's on his mind, though." + +"Maybe I'll run on to the end of his trail," said Connie. "It's a pretty +cold trail by this time--but I might." + +"Maybe you will, son," assented McKeever. "An' if you do, be sure to let +me know. I'd kind of like to clean up the record." + +Good-byes were said the following morning, and Connie and 'Merican Joe, +their sleds piled high with caribou meat, pulled out for their little +cabin where for the next three days they were busy freshening up their +trap line, and resetting rabbit and lynx snares. + +"Dat 'bout tam we start in to trap de fox, now," observed 'Merican Joe, +as he and Connie finished skinning out the last of the martens that had +been taken from the traps. "Dat de bes' kin' trappin'. De leetle fox she +de smartes' of all de people, an' w'en you set de fox trap you never kin +tell w'at you goin' git." + +"Never can tell what you're going to get?" asked Connie. "Why, you're +going to get a fox, if you're lucky, ain't you?" + +"Yes--but de fox, she so many kin'. An' every kin' some differ'. De bes' +fox of all, he is de black wan, den com' de black silver, an' de silver +grey. Dem all fine fox, an' git de big price for de skin. Den com' de +cross fox. Lots of kin' of cross fox. Firs' com' de black cross, den de +dark cross, den de common cross, den de light cross. All de cross fox +pret' good fox, too. Den com' de blue fox--dark blue, an' light blue. +Den com' de red fox--bright red, an' light red, an' pale red--de pale +red ain' no mooch good. She de wors' fox dere is. Even de white fox is +better, an' de white fox is mor' differ' as all de fox. She de only fox +w'at is good to eat, an' she de only fox w'at is easy to trap. She ain't +got no sense. She walk right in de trap. But de res' of de fox she +plent' hard to trap--she ain' goin' roun' where she git de man-scent. +Dat why I hang de two pair of moccasins an' de mittens out on de +_cache_, so she don' git no camp-scent on 'em." + +The following morning 'Merican Joe took from the _cache_ the dozen steel +traps he had placed there when the platform was first built. Also he +brought down the moccasins and mittens that had lain exposed to the air. +Then, drawing on the mittens, he proceeded to cut into small chunks +portions of the carcass of the bear which he placed in a bag of green +caribou skin. + +"Those traps look pretty small for foxes," opined Connie, as he reached +to pick one up from the snow. + +'Merican Joe pushed back his hand before it touched the trap. "Don't +pick 'em up!" he cried, "Dey git de man-scent on 'em. W'at you t'ink I'm +keep 'em out on de _cache_ for? W'en you touch dem trap you got to put +on de mitten lak I got--de mitten dat ain' be'n in de cabin. An' dem +trap ain' too leetle. If you set de beeg trap for de fox, dat ain' no +good. She git caught high up on de leg, an' de beeg spring bre'k de leg +an den de leg freeze an' in wan hour de fox giv' de pull an' de leg +twist off, an' de fox run away--an' nex' tam you bet you ain' ketch dat +fox no mor'. Any fox she hard to ketch, but de t'ree legged fox she de +hardes' t'ing in de worl' to trap--she too mooch smart. You got to git +de trap jes right for de fox. You got to ketch 'em right in de pads +where de foot is thick an' strong an' don' bust an' freeze. Den you hol' +'em good." + +Slipping on the outside moccasins over their others, the two trappers +struck out for a small lake they had passed on the caribou hunt--a lake +that lay between the foot of a high ridge and the open tundra upon which +they had struck the trail of the two caribou bulls. Connie carried the +light rifle, and Leloo accompanied them, running free. + +That night they camped comfortably upon the shore of the lake, with +their blankets spread beneath a light fly. They slept late and it was +long after sunrise the following morning when they started out with +their traps. Fox tracks were numerous along the shore, some of them +leading back onto the ridge, and others heading across the lake in the +direction of the open tundra. Connie was beginning to wonder why +'Merican Joe did not set his traps, when the Indian paused and carefully +scrutinized a long narrow point that jutted out into the lake. The +irregularity of the surface of the snow showed that the point was rocky, +and here and there along its edge a small clump of stunted willows +rattled their dry branches in the breeze. The Indian seemed satisfied +and, walking to the ridge, cut a stick some five or six feet long which +he slipped through the ring of a trap, securing the ring to the middle +of the stick. A few feet beyond one of the willow clumps, nearly at the +end of the point, the Indian stooped, and with his ax cut a trench in +the snow the length of the stick, and about eight or ten inches in +depth. In this trench he placed the stick, and packed the snow over it. +He now made a smaller trench the length of the trap chain, at the end of +which he pressed the snow down with the back of his mitten until he had +made a depression into which he could place the trap with its jaws set +flat, so that the pan would lie some two inches below the level of the +snow. From his bag he drew some needles which he carefully arranged so +that they radiated from the pan to the jaws in such manner as would +prevent snow from packing down and interfering with the springing of the +trap. Then he broke out two pieces of snow-crust and, holding them over +the depression which held the trap, rubbed them together until the trap +was completely covered and the snow mounded slightly higher than the +surrounding level. He then rubbed other pieces of crust over the +trenches which held the clog, and the trap-chain. When that was finished +he took from the bag a brush-broom, which he had made of light twigs as +he walked along, and dusted the mounded snow lightly until the whole +presented an unbroken surface, which would defy the sharpest-eyed fox to +discover it had been tampered with. All this the Indian had done without +moving from his tracks, and now from the bag he drew many pieces of bear +meat which he tossed on to the snow close about the trap. Slowly, he +backed away, being careful to set each snowshoe in its own track, and as +he moved backward, he dusted the tracks full of snow with the +brush-broom. For fifty or sixty feet he repeated this laborious +operation, pausing now and then to toss a piece of meat upon the snow. + +Connie surveyed the job with admiration. "No wonder you said foxes are +hard to trap if you have to go to all that trouble to get 'em," smiled +the boy. + +"It ain' hard to do. It is, w'at you call careful. You mak' de trouble +to be careful, you git de fox--you ain' mak' de trouble you ain' git no +fox. Odder peoples you kin git mebbe-so, if you ain' so careful, but de +fox, an' de wolf, you ain' git." + +Leloo circled in from the ridge, and Connie called to him sharply. "Wish +we hadn't brought him along," he said. "I'm afraid he'll get to smelling +around the bait and get caught." + +'Merican Joe shook his head. "No. Leloo, he ain' git caught. He too +smart. He know w'at de bait for. He ain' goin' for smell dat bait. If de +meat is 'live, an' run or fly, Leloo he grab him if he kin. If de meat +dead Leloo he ain' goin' fool wit' dat meat. You feed him dead meat--me +feed him dead meat--he eat it. But, if he fin' dead meat, he ain' eat +it. He too mooch smart. He smart lak de wolf, an' he smart lak de dog, +too." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE VOICE FROM THE HILL + + +The shore of the lake was irregular, being a succession of rocky points +between which narrow bays extended back to the foot of the ridge which +grew higher and higher as the two progressed toward the upper end of the +lake, where it terminated in a high hill upon the sides of which bold +outcroppings of rock showed at intervals between thick patches of scrub +timber. + +It was well toward the middle of the afternoon when the two reached the +head of the lake, a distance of some five or six miles from the starting +point. All the steel traps had been set, and 'Merican Joe had +constructed two deadfalls, which varied from those set for marten only +by being more cunningly devised, and more carefully prepared. + +"The other shore ain't so rough," said Connie, when the second deadfall +was finished. "We can make better time going back." + +'Merican Joe swept the flat, tundra-skirting eastern shore with a +glance. "We ain' fool wit' dat shore. She too mooch no good for de fox. +We go back to camp an' tomor' we hont de nudder lak!" + +"Look, what's that?" exclaimed Connie pointing toward a rocky ledge that +jutted from the hillside a few rods back from the lake. "It looks like a +_cache_!" + +'Merican Joe scrutinized the arrangement of weather-worn poles that +supported a sagging platform, and with a non-committal grunt, led the +way toward the ledge. The spot was reached after a short climb, and by +ascending to another ledge close behind the first, the two were able to +look down upon the platform, which was raised about eight feet from the +floor of its rock-ledge. + +"Funny bunch of stuff to _cache_!" exclaimed the boy. "I'll tell you +what it is, there's a grave here. I've seen the Indians over on the +Yukon put stuff out beside a grave. It's for the dead man to use in the +Happy Hunting Ground." + +The Indian shook his head. "No. Ain' no grave here." + +"Maybe they buried him there beside the rock," ventured the boy. + +"No. Injun ain' bury lak' white man. If de man ees here, she would be on +de rocks, lak de _cache_. Injun lay de dead man on de rock an' mak' de +leetle pole house for um." + +"Well, what in thunder would anyone want to _cache_ that stuff 'way out +here for? Look, there's a blanket, and it's been here so long it's about +rotted to pieces, and a pipe, and moccasins, and there's the stock of a +rifle sticking out beneath the blanket--those things have been there a +long time--a year or two at least. But there's grub there, too. And the +grub is fresh--it hasn't been there more than a month." + +'Merican Joe was silent, and as the boy turned toward him, he caught him +glancing furtively over his shoulder toward the dark patches of timber +that blotched the hillside. "I ain' lak dis place. She no good," he +muttered, as he caught the boy's glance. + +"What's the matter with it?" smiled Connie. "What do you make of it?" + +For answer, 'Merican Joe turned abruptly and descended to the shore of +the lake. At the extremity of a rocky point that afforded a sweeping +view of the great hillside, he stopped and waited for Connie to join +him. "Dis place, she ain' no good," he reiterated, solemnly. + +"What's the matter with it?" repeated the boy. "You said all along, +until we came across that _cache_, that it was a dandy lake to trap +foxes on." + +"Good for fox, mebbe--but no good for Injun. Me--I'm t'ink I'm pull up +dem trap, an' fin' som' nudder place." + +"Pull up nothing!" cried the boy. "After all that work setting them? +Buck up! What's the matter with you anyhow?" + +"Dat _cache_--she lak you say--lak de grave _cache_. But dey ain' no +grave! Dat mus' got to be de _tamahnawus cache_!" + +"_Tamahnawus cache!_" laughed the boy. "_Tamahnawuses_ don't make caches. +And besides there ain't any _tamahnawuses_! Don't you remember the other +_tamahnawus_--that turned out to be a man in a moose hide? I've heard a +lot about 'em--but I never saw one yet." + +'Merican Joe regarded the boy gravely. "Dat better you don't see no +_tamahnawus_, neider. You say, 'ain' no _tamahnawus_, 'cos I ain' see +none'. Tell me, is dere any God?" + +"Why, yes, of course there's a God," answered the boy, quickly. + +The Indian regarded him gravely. "Me--I ain' say, 'ain' no God 'cos I +ain' see none'. I say, dat better I ain' mak' dat white man God mad. +But, jus' de same, I ain' goin' mak' no _tamahnawus_ mad, neider." + +"All right," smiled Connie. "We won't make him mad, but I'm going to +find out about that _tamahnawus_--you wait and see. I wonder who built +that _cache_?" + +"Dat Dog Rib _cache_," promptly answered the Indian. + +"Probably the Injuns up at the village will know about it. They'll be +back from Fort Norman in a few days, and I'll ask Pierre Bonnet Rouge." + +Avoiding the rough shore, the two struck out for camp down the middle of +the ice-locked lake where the wind-packed snow gave excellent footing. +The air was still and keen, the sky cloudless, and Connie watched the +sun set in a blaze of gold behind the snow-capped ridge to the westward. +Suddenly both halted in their tracks and glanced into each other's +faces. From far behind them, seemingly from the crest of the hill they +had left, sounded a cry: "_Y-i-i-e-e-o-o-o!_" Long-drawn, thin, +quavering, it cut the keen air with startling distinctness. Then, as +abruptly as it had started, it ceased, and the two stood staring. +Swiftly Connie's glance sought the bald crest of the hill that showed +distinctly above the topmost patches of timber, as it caught the last +rays of the setting sun. But the hill showed only an unbroken sky-line, +and in the dead silence of the barrens the boy waited tensely for a +repetition of the wild cry. And as he waited he was conscious of an +uncomfortable prickling at the roots of his hair, for never had he heard +the like of that peculiar wailing cry, a cry that the boy knew had +issued from the throat of no wild animal--a wild cry and eerie in its +loud-screamed beginning, but that sounded half-human as it trailed off +in what seemed a moan of quavering despair. + +The cry was not repeated and Connie glanced into the face of 'Merican +Joe who stood with sagging jaw, the picture of abject fear. With an +effort, the boy spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, for he well knew that it +would never do to let the Indian see that his own nerve had been +momentarily shaken: + +"Someone lost up in the hills, I guess. We'd better go hunt him up." + +The Indian's eyes stared wide with terror, his lips moved stiffly and +the words rasped huskily: "_Tamahnawus!_ She git dark. We git to camp. +Mak' de big fire. _Tamahnawus_ she no lak' de fire." And without waiting +for a reply, he struck off down the lake as fast as his snowshoes would +let him. And Connie followed, knowing that in the approaching darkness +nothing could be done toward clearing up the mystery of that loud-drawn +wail. + +That night the boy slept fitfully, and each time he awoke it was to see +'Merican Joe seated close beside the huge fire which he kept blazing +high all the night through. Breakfast was finished just as the first +grey light of dawn showed the outlines of the ridge. 'Merican Joe +watched in silence as Connie made the remaining grub into a pack. "Take +down the fly," ordered the boy, and the Indian obeyed with alacrity. +Folding the fly, he added the blankets to the pack, fastened on his +snowshoes and struck out toward the north-west. + +"Here, where you going?" cried Connie. + +The Indian paused. "Goin' back to de cabin, jus' so fas' lak I kin." + +"No you ain't," laughed the boy. "You're going with me, and we're going +to find out all about who, or what made that racket last night." + +"No, no, no! I ain' got to fin' dat out! Me--_I know_!" + +"You don't know a thing about it. Listen here. That sound came from that +high hill, didn't it?" + +The Indian glanced fearfully toward the hill, the outline of which was +just visible at the head of the lake, and nodded. + +"Well, we're going to circle that hill. There has been no fresh snow for +ten days or two weeks, and if we circle the base of it we'll strike the +trail of whoever is on the hill. Then we can follow the trail." + +"I ain' want no trail! _Tamahnawus_ she don' mak' no trail. Dat hill she +b'long to _tamahnawus_. I ain' want dat hill. Plent' mor' hill for me. +An' plent' mor' lak' to trap de fox. An' besides, we ain' got nuff grub. +We got to git back." + +"We've got enough grub for today and tomorrow if we go light on it. It +won't take us long when we strike the trail to follow it up on to the +hill. Come on, buck up! There may be someone up there that needs +help--maybe someone that is in the same fix you were when I found you +back on Spur Mountain." + +"Ain't no one up dere. I ain' hang roun' on Spur Mountain an' yell lak +_tamahnawus_. Me--I'm too mooch dead." + +"Come on. Are you going with me?" + +The Indian hesitated. "If we go roun' de hill an' ain' fin' no track, +den we hit for de cabin?" he asked, shrewdly. + +"Yes," answered the boy, confident that they would strike the trail by +circling the hill, "if we don't strike the trail of whoever or whatever +made that sound, we'll hit back to the cabin." + +"All right, me--I'm go 'long--but we ain' strike no trail. _Tamahnawus_ +don' mak' no trail." Connie struck out with the Indian following, and as +they reached the summit of the ridge that paralleled the shore of the +lake, the sun showed his yellow rim over a distant spruce swamp, and at +the same instant, far away--from the direction of the hill, came once +more the long-drawn quavering yell. 'Merican Joe whirled at the sound +and started out over the back trail, and it required a full fifteen +minutes of persuasion, ridicule, entreaty, and threat before he +reluctantly returned and fell in behind Connie. + +At the base of the hill, the boy suggested that they separate and each +follow its base in opposite directions, pointing out that much time +could be saved, as the hill, which was of mountainous proportions, +seemed likely to have a base contour of eight or ten miles. But 'Merican +Joe flatly refused. He would accompany Connie, as he had agreed to, but +not one foot would he go without the boy. All the way up the ridge, he +had followed so closely that more than once he had stepped on the tails +of Connie's snowshoes, and twice, when the boy had halted suddenly to +catch some fancied sound, he had bumped into him. + +It was nearly sundown when the two stood at the intersection of their +own trail after having made the complete circuit of the hill. Fox tracks +they had found, also the tracks of wolves, and rabbits, and of an +occasional _loup cervier_--and nothing more. Connie had examined every +foot of the ground carefully, and at intervals had halted and yelled at +the top of his lungs--had even persuaded 'Merican Joe to launch forth +his own peculiarly penetrating call, but their only answer was the dead, +sphinx-like silence of the barrens. + +"Com' on," urged 'Merican Joe, with a furtive glance into a nearby +thicket. "Me--I got nuff. I know we ain' goin' fin' no track. +_Tamahnawus_ don' mak' no track." + +"_Tamahnawus_, nothing!" exclaimed Connie, impatiently. "I tell you +there ain't any such thing. If we had grub enough I'd stay right here +till I found out where that yell comes from. There's no sign of a camp +on the hill, and no one has gone up or come down since this snow fell. +There's something funny about the whole business, and you bet I'm going +to find out what it is." + +"You say we no fin' de track, we go back to de cabin," reminded the +Indian. + +"Yes, and we will go back. And then we'll load up a sled-load of grub, +and we'll hit right back here and stay till we get at the bottom of +this. The sun will drop out of sight in a minute, and then I think we'll +hear it again. We heard it last evening at sundown, and at sunrise this +morning." + +"I ain' wan' to hear it no mor'," 'Merican Joe announced uneasily. "Dat +ain' no good to hear." + +Extending upward clear to the crest of the hill, directly above where +the two stood, was an area half a mile wide upon which no timber grew. +Here and there a jumbled outcropping of rock broke the long smooth sweep +of snow upon which the last rays of the setting sun were reflected with +dazzling brightness. As Connie waited expectantly he was conscious of a +tenseness of nerves, that manifested itself in a clenching of his fists, +and the tight-pressing of his lips. His eyes swept the long up-slanting +spread of snow, and even as he looked he heard 'Merican Joe give a +startled grunt, and there before them on the snow beside an outcropping +of rocks not more than three hundred yards from them, a beautiful black +fox stood clean-cut against the white background, and daintily sniffed +the air. Connie's surprise was no less than the Indian's for he knew +that scarcely a second had passed since his eyes had swept that exact +spot--and there had been no fox there. + +The sunlight played only upon the upper third of the long slope now, and +the fox lifted his delicately pointed muzzle upward as if to catch some +fleeting scent upon the almost motionless air. Then came that awful cry, +rising in a high thin scream, and trailing off as before in a quavering +wail of despair. + +As Connie stared in amazement at the black fox, there was a swift +scratching of claws, and a shower of dry snow flew up, as Leloo like a +great silver flash, launched himself up the slope. For a fraction of a +second the boy's glance rested upon the flying grey shape and once more +it sought the fox--but there was no fox there, only the low rock-ledge +outcropping through the snow. Instantly the boy sprang after Leloo, +disregarding the inarticulate protest of 'Merican Joe, who laboured +heavily along in his wake, hesitating between two fears, the fear of +being left alone, and the fear of visiting the spot at which had +appeared the fox with the voice of a man. + +As Connie reached the rock-ledge he stopped abruptly and stared in +surprise at Leloo. The great wolf-dog's nose quivered, and his yellow +eyes were fixed with a peculiar glare upon a small irregular hole +beneath a projecting lip of rock--a hole just big enough to admit the +body of the fox. Even as the boy looked, the long hairs of Leloo's +great ruff stiffened, and stood quiveringly erect, a low growl rumbled +deep in the dog's throat, and with a curious tense stiffness of +movement, he began to back slowly from the hole. Never for an instant +did the low throaty growl cease, nor did the fixed yellow eyes leave the +black aperture. Not until he had backed a full twenty feet from the hole +did the dog's tense muscles relax and then his huge brush of a tail +drooped, the hair of his ruff flattened, and he turned and trotted down +the back trail, pausing only once to cast a hang-dog glance up the +slope. + +Connie was conscious of a strange chill at the pit of his stomach. Why +had Leloo, the very embodiment of savage courage, backed away from that +hole with every muscle tense, and why had he hit the back trail +displaying every evidence of abject terror? The boy had seen him run +foxes to earth before, and he had never acted like that. He had always +torn at the edges of the hole with fang and claw. A hundred times more +terrifying than even the fox with the strange human cry, was the action +of the wolf-dog. Without moving from his tracks, the boy examined the +rock-ledge. It was probably twenty feet in length, and not more than +four or five feet high, and he saw at a glance that the small irregular +hole was the only aperture in the mass of solid rock. His eyes swept the +surrounding hillside but with the exception of numerous fox tracks that +led to and from the hole, the surface of the snow was unbroken. + +The sunlight had disappeared from the crest of the hill. On the lower +levels the fast deepening twilight was rendering objects +indistinguishable, when Connie turned to 'Merican Joe, who presented a +pitiable picture of terror. "Let's go," he said, shortly. "We'll have a +moon tonight. We can travel till we get tired." + +And 'Merican Joe without waiting for a second invitation struck off down +the hill after Leloo, at a pace that Connie found hard to follow. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE-LAKE-OF-THE-FOX-THAT-YELLS + + +Leaving 'Merican Joe to look after the line of marten and mink traps, +Connie Morgan struck out from the little cabin and headed for the Indian +village. Straight to the cabin of Pierre Bonnet Rouge he went and was +welcomed by the Indian with the respect that only the real sourdough +ever commands in the Indians of the North. For Pierre knew of his own +knowledge of the boy's outwitting the _hooch_-runners, and he had +listened in the evenings upon the trail to Fort Norman, while big Dan +McKeever recounted to McTavish, as he never tired of doing, the +adventures of Connie in the Mounted. + +After supper, which the two ate in silence, while the squaw of Bonnet +Rouge served them, they drew up their chairs to the stove. The boy asked +questions as to the success of the trading, the news of the river +country, and prospects for a good spring catch. Then the talk drifted +to fox trapping, and Connie told the Indian that he and 'Merican Joe had +set some traps on the lake a day's journey to the south-eastward. Pierre +Bonnet listened attentively, but by not so much as the flicker of an +eyelash did he betray the fact that he had ever heard of the lake. +Finally, the boy asked him, point-blank, if he had ever been there. +Connie knew something of Indians, and, had been quick to note that +Pierre held him in regard. Had this not been so, he would never have +risked the direct question, for it is only by devious and round-about +methods that one obtains desired information from his red brother. + +Pierre puffed his pipe in silence for an interminable time, then he +nodded slowly: "Yes," he answered, "I be'n dere." + +"What is the name of that lake?" + +"Long tam ago _nem_ 'Hill Lak'. Now, Injun call um +'Lak'-of-de-Fox-Dat-Yell'." + +"You have seen him, too--the fox that yells?" asked the boy, eagerly. + +"Yes. I kill um two tam--an' he com' back." + +"Came back!" cried the boy. "What do you mean?" + +"He com' back--an' yell w'en de sun com' up. An' w'en de sun go down he +yell on de side of de hill." + +"But surely he couldn't yell after you'd killed him. You must have +killed the wrong fox." + +"No. Wan tam I trap um, an' wan tam I shoot um--an' he com' back an' +yell." + +"Where did you trap him? At the hole that goes under the rocks?" + +"No. Wan tam I trap um on de shore of de lak'. An' wan tam I watch um +com' out de hole an' shoot um." + +"But the one you trapped--how do you know that it was the same one? +There's lots of foxes over there." + +"Yes, I trap odder wans, too. Kin tell de fox dat yell. He wear de +collar." + +"Wears a collar!" cried the boy. "What do you mean? Are you crazy?" + +"No. He _tamahnawus_ fox. He wear de collar." + +"What kind of a collar?" + +"Ermine skin collar--always he got it on." + +"Look here," exclaimed Connie, shortly. "Are you lying to me? Do you +expect me to sit here and believe any such rot as that? Did you save the +collars? I want to look at 'em." + +"De collar, an de skin, dey on de _cache_ at de end of dat lak'." + +"What do you leave the black fox skins out there for, they're worth a +lot?" + +The Indian shrugged. "I ain' want for mak' de _tamahnawus_ mad. I put de +skin an' de collar under de blankets on de _cache_." + +"Are they there now?" + +The Indian shrugged. "I ain' know dat. Mebbe-so _tamahnawus_ fox com' +an' git he's skin an' he's leetle w'ite collar an' wear um agin." + +"But you've been to the _cache_ lately. There was grub on it that hadn't +been there more than a month at the most." + +"Yes. I got bad luck w'en I kill dem fox, so I build de _cache_ an' mak' +de _tamahnawus_ de present. All de tam I tak' mor' grub, an' now I ain' +got de bad luck." + +For a long time Connie was silent as he went over in his mind step by +step the happenings at the lake where 'Merican Joe had set the fox +traps. Then he thought over what Pierre Bonnet Rouge had told him, but +instead of clearing things up, the Indian's words had only served to +deepen the mystery of the fox that yelled like a man. Suddenly the boy +remembered the action of Pierre when McTavish had asked him if he knew +anything about James Dean, the missing prospector. He glanced at the +Indian who was puffing his pipe in silence, and decided to risk another +direct question although he knew that in all probability Pierre Bonnet +Rouge would relapse into a stubborn muteness; for in matters touching +upon his superstitions, the Indian is a man of profound silence. "I +won't be any worse off than I am, now," thought the boy, "if he don't +say another word--so here goes." He addressed the Indian gravely. + +"Pierre," he began, watching the man narrowly to note the effect of his +words, "you know I am a friend of yours, and a friend of the Indians. I +gave them meat, and I saved them from being robbed by the +_hooch_-runners." The Indian nodded, and Connie felt encouraged to +proceed. "Now, I believe there is something else beside a _tamahnawus_ +down there at Hill Lake. And I'm going back there and find out what it +is." + +Pierre Bonnet Rouge shook his head emphatically. "No. I ain' goin' +'long. I w'at you call, learn lesson for fool wit' _tamahnawus_." + +"That's all right. I won't ask you to go. I am not afraid of the +_tamahnawus_. If 'Merican Joe won't go with me, I'll go alone. I want +you to tell me, though, what became of James Dean? Is he mixed up in +this?" + +The Indian smoked without answering for so long a time that the boy +feared that he would never speak, but after a while he removed the pipe +from his mouth and regarded the boy sombrely. "You _skookum tillicum_," +he began, gravely. "I ain' lak I see you mak' de _tamahnawus_ mad. De +_tamahnawus_, she mor' _skookum_ as you. She git you. I tell you all I +know 'bout dat _tamahnawus_. Den, if you goin' back to de lak--" he +paused and shrugged meaningly, and turning to the squaw, who had +finished washing the supper dishes, he motioned with his hand, and the +woman threw a brilliant red shawl over her head and passed out the door. + +Pierre Bonnet Rouge refilled his pipe, and hunching his chair closer to +Connie, leaned toward him and spoke in a low tone. "She start long tam +ago--six, seven year. We camp on de Blackwater. Wan tam in de winter, +me, an' Ton-Kan, an' John Pickles, we go on de beeg caribou hunt. We +swing up by de beeg lak' an' by-m-by we com' on de cabin. She w'ite man +cabin, an' no wan hom', but de fresh track lead sout'. Ton-Kan, he t'ink +de man got de _hooch_ to trade an' he want som' _hooch_, an' John +Pickles too--so we fol' de track. By-m-by we com' to Hill Lak', an' de +man she got de leetle camp by de hill. He ain' got no _hooch_. We got +som' fox trap 'long, so we mak' de camp. Plent' fox track roun' de lak', +an' we say tomor' we set de trap. Dat night com' de man to de camp. Say, +'nem James Dean.' Say, 'w'at you Injun goin' do?' I say, 'we goin' trap +de fox. He ain' lak dat. By-m-by he say, 'you got look out. De +_tamahnawus_ fox here. She talk lak de man.' I ain' b'lieve dat. I t'ink +he say dat 'cos he wan' to trap de fox. But Ton-Kan an' John Pickles git +scare. I say, 'de _tamahnawus_ ain' git you, he mebbe-so ain' git me, +neider.' He say, 'me--I got de strong medicine. De _tamahnawus_ she know +me. She do lak I say.' I ain' b'lieve dat, an' he say, 'You wait, I show +you. I go back to my camp an' mak de medicine an' I tell de _tamahnawus_ +to burn de snow out on de lak'.' He go back to he's camp an' Ton-Kan an' +John Pickles is ver' mooch scare. De night she ver' black. Wan tam I +t'ink I hear som' wan walk out on de lak', but I ain' sure an' Ton-Kan +say dat _tamahnawus_. Den he point out on de lak' an' I kin see leetle +fire lak' de eye of de fox in de dark. Den she mak de leetle spark, an' +she move 'long ver slow. I laugh an' I say, 'Dat James Dean out dere, +she mak de fire to scare Injun.' Den rat behine me som' wan laugh, an' +stands James Dean, an' he say, 'No, James Dean is here. Dat de +_tamahnawus_ out on de lak'. He burn de snow, lak I tell um.' I say, +'Mebbe-so, de piece of rope burn lak dat.' An' he say, 'No, dat ain' no +rope. Dat _tamahnawus_ burn de snow. You t'ink you smart Injun--but I +show you. If dat is rope she goin' out pret' queek, ain' it? She can't +mak' de big fire?' I say, 'No, rope can't mak' no big fire.' 'A'right,' +he say, 'I tell de _tamahnawus_ to mak' de beeg fire dat mak' de lak' +all light.' Den he yell at de _tamahnawus_. He say, 'Mak' de beeg fire! +Mak' de beeg fire!' But she ain' mak' no beeg fire, an' de leetle fire +crawl slow out on de snow, an' I laugh on heem. He say, 'De _tamahnawus_ +ain' hear dat. I got yell louder.' So he yell louder, 'Mak' de beeg +fire! Mak' de beeg fire!' An den." Pierre Bonnet Rouge paused and +shuddered. "An' den de beeg fire com'! So queek--so beeg you kin see de +trees. An' den she all dark, so black you can't see nuttin'. An' James +Dean laugh. An' Ton-Kan, she so scare she howl lak' de dog. An' John +Pickles, she try to dig de hole in de snow an' crawl in. An' me--I'm so +scare I can't talk. + +"Nex' mornin' w'en she git light nuff to see we go 'way from dat lak' +jes' so fas lak we kin, an' we ain' stop till we git to de Blackwater." +Pierre Bonnet Rouge lapsed into silence, and at length Connie asked: + +"But the _cache_? And the foxes that wore the collars?" + +"Nex' year I hunt caribou agin, but I ain' go by Hill lak', you bet. +Young Injun 'long _nem_ Clawhammer, an' we swing roun' by de beeg lak' +an' com' by de cabin. Lots of tracks, but I ain' see James Dean tracks. +By-m-by, we com' on de camp of 'bout ten Innuit. Dey mak' de track by de +cabin, an' dey got all de stuff out. I ain' see James Dean. _S'pose_ +James Dean dead. He los' de medicine, an' de _tamahnawus_ git um. + +"So I keep way from Hill Lak'. T'ree, four year go by, an' de fox +trappin' is bad. I ain' so mooch fraid of _tamahnawus_ no mor' an' I +t'ink 'bout dem plent' fox tracks on Hill Lak' so me an' Clawhammer we +go dere. We set 'bout twent' traps de firs' day. Never see so many fox +track. We set um by de hill. We git t'rough early an' set up de tent on +de shore of de lak'. She almos' sundown an' I look up de hill an' rat +beside wan leetle rock-ledge, I see wan fine black fox. I grab de gun, +an' tak' de res' on de sled, an' den I hear de yell! It soun' lak' wan +man w'at is los'! But it com' from de fox! I shoot queek, an' de fox +com' roll down de hill! Clawhammer he run an' git um, an' den we see +it--de collar of ermine skin! Den I know dat de _tamahnawus_ fox James +Dean say talk lak' de man, an' I ver' mooch scare. I ain' tell +Clawhammer 'bout James Dean, an' he t'ink som' wan git los' mak' de +yell. He ain' see it com' from de fox. I look on dat leetle fox, an' I +see he ver' dead. But no blood. De fur jes' scratch' cross de back of de +head--but, she ver' dead--I look good. + +"Clawhammer he wan' to skin dat fox, but I don' know w'at to do. If de +Injun kill de fox, he mus' got to skin um. Dat bad to waste de fox. +_Sah-ha-lee Tyee_ don' want de Injun to waste de peoples. I got to t'ink +'bout dat an' so I lay de fox behine de tent an' mak' de supper. After +supper I t'ink long tam. _Tamahnawus_, she bad spirit. _Sah-ha-lee +Tyee_, she good spirit. If I skin de fox, _tamahnawus_ git mad on me. If +I ain' skin de fox, _Sah-ha-lee Tyee_ git mad on me. I ain' know w'at to +do. I t'ink som' mor'. By-m-by I t'ink dat bes to skin de fox. I ain' +know where _Sah-ha-lee Tyee_ liv'. If I mak' um mad I ain' kin giv' um +no present. Better I mak' _tamahnawus_ mad cos he liv' rat here, an' if +I mak' um mad I kin give um de present an' mebbe-so he ain' stay mad on +me. So, I go behine de tent to git de fox. But, de fox, she gon'! An' de +track show she gon' back up de hill, an' I ver' mooch scare--cos she was +dead! + +"In de morning Clawhammer say he look at de traps to de wes', an' swing +on roun' de hill to fin' de track of de man w'at git los' an' yell. I +ain' say nuttin', an' he start ver' early. I go look at de traps down de +lak', an' w'en de sun com' up, I hear de yell agin! An' I ver' mooch +scare, cos I'm fraid de _tamahnawus_ mad on me for kill de fox w'at yell +lak de man. So I go back, an' I skin two fox w'at I ketch in de trap. +Clawhammer ain' back, so I go an' build de _cache_. An' I put my +blankets an' rifle on it, an' plenty grub, for de present to +_tamahnawus_. Clawhammer com' 'long an' he say he ain' fin' no track. He +begin to git scare 'bout dat yell, w'en he don' fin' de track. So he +show me wan fox what he took from de trap. It is de black fox wit' de +ermine collar! Clawhammer ver' mooch scare now. He wan' to run away. But +I tell um we got to skin dat fox. If we don' skin um, we goin' to mak' +_Sah-ha-lee Tyee_ ver' mad. _Tamahnawus_ he ver' mad anyhow; so we mak' +him de present, an' we skin de fox, an' put de skin an' de collar on de +_cache_ too. Den mebbe-so _tamahnawus_ ain' so mad w'en he git de guns +an' de blankets, an' de fox skin back. So we go 'way from dat lak' ver' +fas'. + +"Dat day I bre'k my leg. An' nex' day Clawhammer's tepee burn up. So we +git bad luck. Den de bad luck go 'way, cos _tamahnawus_ fin' dat +_cache_, an' he ain' so mad. But every tam de leetle moon com' I tak' +som' mor' grub to de _cache_. An' so, I keep de luck good." + +"And do you think it's still there on the _cache_--the fox skin and the +collar?" + +The Indian shrugged. "I ain' know 'bout dat. Mebbe-so de _tamahnawus_ +fox com' an' git he's skin. 'Bout wan year ago Bear Lake Injun, _nem_ +Peter Burntwood, trap wan fox way up on de beeg lak'. She black fox, an' +she got de collar of ermine skin. Me--I'm over to Fort Norman w'en he +bring in de skin an' de collar, an' trade de skin to McTavish." + +"What did McTavish make of it?" asked Connie eagerly. + +"He ain' b'lieve dat. He t'ink Peter Burntwood mak' dat collar to fool +um. He say Peter Burntwood lak too mooch to tell de beeg lie." + +"But didn't you tell McTavish about the fox you shot, and the one you +trapped with the collar on?" + +"No. I ain' say nuttin'. Dat hurt too mooch to bre'k de leg. I ain' want +dat _tamahnawus_ mad on me no mor'." + +Connie was silent for a long time as he racked his brain for some +reasonable explanation of the Indian's strange story, pieced out by what +he, himself, had actually seen and heard at the lake. But no explanation +presented itself and finally he shook his head. + +"W'at you t'ink 'bout dat?" asked Pierre Bonnet Rouge, who had been +watching the boy narrowly. + +"I don't know. There's something back of it all--but I can't seem to +figure what it is. I'm going back to that lake, though, and I'm going to +stay there till I do know." + +The Indian shook his head forebodingly. "Dat better you keep way from +dat lak'. She no good. James Dean he fool wit de _tamahnawus_. An' he +hav' de strong medicine to mak' de _tamahnawus_ do lak' he tell um. But +de _tamahnawus_ git James Dean. An' he git you--too." + +Connie waited for two days after 'Merican Joe returned from the trap +line before he even mentioned returning to +The-Lake-of-the-Fox-That-Yells, as the Indians had renamed Hill Lake. +Then, one evening he began to make up a pack for the trail. + +"Were you goin'?" asked 'Merican Joe, eying the preparations with +disapproval. + +"It's about time we went down and looked at those fox traps, isn't it?" +he asked casually. "And we ought to get some more out." + +The Indian shook his head. "Me--I'm lak' dat better we let de +_tamahnawus_ hav' dem fox trap. We go on som' nudder lak' an' set +mor'." + +"Look here!" ripped out the boy, angrily, "if you're afraid to go you +can stay here and snare rabbits like a squaw! I ain't afraid of your +_tamahnawus_, and I'll go alone! And I'll stay till I find out what all +this business is about--and then I'll come back and laugh at you, and at +Pierre Bonnet Rouge, too. You're a couple of old women!" 'Merican Joe +made no answer, and after puttering a bit he went to bed. + +When Connie awakened, before daylight the following morning, the fire +was burning brightly in the stove, and 'Merican Joe, dressed for the +trail, was setting the breakfast table. Connie drew on his clothing and +noticing that the pack he had thrown together the night before was +missing, stepped to the door. A pack of double the size was lashed to +the sled, and the boy turned to 'Merican Joe with a grin: "Decide to +take a chance?" he asked. + +The Indian set a plate of beans on the table and looked into the boy's +eyes. "Me--I'm t'ink you too mooch _skookum_. Wan tam on Spur Mountain, +I say you good man, an' I say 'Merican Joe, she good man, too. But she +ain' so good man lak you. She scare for _tamahnawus_ mor' as anyt'ing +on de worl'. Rat now I'm so scare--me--dat de knees shivver, an' de hair +com's from de head an' crawl up an' down de back an' de feet is col' lak +de piece of ice, an' de belly is sick lak I ain' got nuttin' to eat in +my life. But, I'm goin' 'long, an' I stan' rat beside you all de tam, +an' w'en de _tamahnawus_ git Connie Mo'gan, by Goss! she got to git +'Merican Joe, too!" + +The boy stepped to the Indian's side and snatched his hand into both his +own. "'Merican Joe," he cried, in a voice that was not quite steady, +"you're a brick! You're the best doggone Injun that ever lived!" + +"Me--I'm de scarest Injun ever liv'. I bet I lak she was nex' week, an' +I was t'ousan' miles 'way from here." + +"You're braver than I am," laughed the boy; "it's nothing for me to go, +because I'm not scared, but you're scared stiff--and you're going +anyway." + +"Humph," grinned the Indian, "I ain' know w'at you mean--you say, if you +scare, you brave--an' if you ain' scare, you ain' so brave. By Goss! I +lak dat better if I ain' so mooch brave, den--an' ain' so mooch scare +neider." + +Travelling heavy, darkness overtook them some six or eight miles from +their destination, and they camped. The sun was an hour high next +morning when they pushed out on to the snow-covered ice and headed for +the high hill at the end of the lake. 'Merican Joe agreed to look at the +traps on the way up while Connie held the dogs to a course parallel to +the shore. As the Indian was about to strike out he pointed excitedly +toward the point where he had made the first set. Connie looked, and +there, jumping about on the snow, with his foot in the trap was a +beautiful black fox! It is a sight that thrills your trapper to the +marrow, for here is the most valuable skin that it is possible for him +to take, and forgetting for the moment his fear of the lake, 'Merican +Joe struck off across the snow. A few moments later he halted, stared at +the fox, and turning walked slowly back to the sled. + +"Mebbe-so dat fox is de fox dat yell lak' de man. She black fox, too. +Me--I'm 'fraid to tak' dat fox out de trap. I'm 'fraid she talk to me! +An' by Goss! She say jus' wan word to me, I git so scare I die!" + +Connie laughed. "Here, you take the dogs and I'll look at the traps. I +remember where they all are, and I'll take out the foxes. But you will +have to reset the traps, later." + +As Connie approached, the fox jerked and tugged at the chain in an +effort to free himself from the trap, but he was fairly caught and the +jaws held. Connie drew his belt ax, for 'Merican Joe had explained that +the fox is too large and lively an animal to be held with the bow of the +snowshoe like the marten, while the trapper feels for his heart. He must +be stunned by a sharp blow on the nose with the helve of the ax, after +which it is an easy matter to pull his heart. As he was about to strike, +the boy straightened up and stared at a small white band that encircled +the neck of the fox. It was a collar of ermine skin! And as he continued +to stare, little prickly chills shot up and down his spine. For a moment +he stood irresolute, and then, pulling himself together, he struck. A +moment later the fox's heart-strings snapped at the pull, and the boy +released the foot from the trap, and holding the animal in his hands, +examined the ermine collar. It was nearly an inch wide, of untanned +skin, and was tied at the throat. "No Injun ever tied that knot," +muttered the boy, "and there's no use scaring 'Merican Joe any more than +necessary," he added, as with his sheath knife he cut the collar and +placed it carefully in his pocket, and carrying the fox, proceeded up +the shore. + +In the fifth trap was another black fox. And again the boy stared at the +ermine skin collar that encircled the animal's neck. He removed this +collar and placed it with the first. 'Merican Joe was a half-mile out on +the lake, plodding along at the head of the dogs. The two foxes were +heavy, and Connie decided to carry them to the sled. + +'Merican Joe stared, wide-eyed, at the catch. "Did dey talk?" he asked, +huskily. And when Connie had assured him that they had not, the Indian +continued to stare. + +"Dat funny we git _two_ black fox. De black fox, he ain' so many. You +trap wan all winter, you done good. We got two, sam' day. I ain' never +hear 'bout dat before!" + +"I knew this was a good lake for foxes," smiled the boy. 'Merican Joe +nodded, sombrely. "Som't'ing wrong. Dat lak' she too mooch good for fox. +Som' t'ing wrong." + +The twelfth trap yielded another black fox, and another ermine collar, +and as the boy removed it from the animal's neck he gave way to an +expression of anger. "What in thunder is the meaning of this? Who is out +here in the hills tying ermine collars on black foxes--and why? The most +valuable skin in the North--and some fool catches them and ties a collar +on them, and turns them loose! And how does he catch them? They've never +been trapped before! And how does it come there are so many of them and +they are so easy to trap?" He gave it up, and returned to the sled, to +show the astounded 'Merican Joe the third black fox. But the Indian took +no joy in the catch, and all the time they were setting up the tent in +the shelter of a thicket at the foot of the high hill, he maintained a +brooding silence. + +"While you skin the foxes, I guess I'll slip over and have another look +at that _cache_," said the boy, when they had eaten their luncheon. + +"You sure git back, pret' queek?" asked the Indian, "I ain' want to be +here 'lone w'en de sun go down. I ain' want to hear dat yell." + +"Oh, I'll be back long before sundown," assured Connie. "That yell is +just what I _do want_ to hear." + +At the _cache_ he raised the rotting blanket and peered beneath it and +there, as Pierre Bonnet Rouge had told him, was a black fox skin, and +its ermine collar. The boy examined the collar. It was an exact +counterpart of the three he had in his pocket. He replaced the blanket +and walked slowly back to camp, pondering deeply the mystery of the +collars, but the more he thought, the more mysterious it seemed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE MAN IN THE CAVE + + +It was late afternoon when 'Merican Joe finished skinning the three +foxes and stretching the pelts. As the sun approached the horizon Connie +seated himself upon the sled at a point that gave him a clear view of +the rock-ledge on the hillside. 'Merican Joe went into the tent and +seated himself on his blankets, where he cowered with his thumbs in his +ears. + +The lower levels were in the shadows, now, and the sunlight was creeping +slowly up the hill. Suddenly, from the rock-ledge appeared a black fox. +Connie wondered if he, too, wore an ermine skin collar. The fox sniffed +the air and trotted off along the hillside, where he disappeared behind +a patch of scrub. Again the boy's eyes sought the ledge, another fox was +trotting away and still another stood beside the rock. Then it came--the +wild quavering yell for which the boy waited. The third fox trotted +away as the yell came to its wailing termination, and Connie leaped from +the sled. "It's just as I thought!" he cried, excitedly. "_The fox never +gave that yell!_" The boy had expected to find just that, nevertheless, +the actual discovery of it thrilled him with excitement. + +The head of 'Merican Joe peered cautiously from the tent. "Who giv' um +den?" he asked in fear and trembling. + +"The man that's at the bottom of that fox-hole," answered the boy, +impressively, "and if I'm not mistaken, his name is James Dean." + +The Indian stared at the boy as though he thought he had taken leave of +his senses. "W'at you mean--de bottom of de fox-hole?" he asked "Dat +hole so leetle small dat de fox she almos' can't git out!" + +"That's just it!" cried the boy. "That's just why the man can't get +out." + +"How he git in dere?" asked 'Merican Joe, in a tone of such disgust that +Connie laughed. + +"I'll tell you that tomorrow," he answered, "after James Dean tells me." + +"If de yell com' from de hole, den de _tamahnawus_ mak' um," imparted +the Indian, fearfully. "An' if he can't get out dat better we let um +stay in dere. Ain' no man kin git in dat hole. I ain' know nuttin' 'bout +no James Dean." + +A half-hour before sunrise the following morning Connie started up the +slope, closely followed by 'Merican Joe, who mumbled gruesome +forebodings as he crowded so close that he had to keep a sharp lookout +against treading upon the tails of Connie's rackets. When they had +covered half the distance a black fox broke from a nearby patch of scrub +and dashed for the hole in the rock-ledge, and as they approached the +place another fox emerged from the thicket, paused abruptly, and circled +widely to the shelter of another thicket. + +Arriving at the ledge, Connie took up his position squarely in front of +the hole, while 'Merican Joe, grimly grasping the helve of his belt ax, +sank down beside him, and with trembling fingers untied the thongs of +one of his snowshoes. + +"What are you doing that for?" asked Connie, in a low voice. + +"Me--I'm so scare w'en dat yell com', I'm 'fraid I runaway. If I ain' +got jus' wan snowshoe, I can't run." + +"You're all right," smiled the boy, as he reached out and laid a +reassuring hand upon the Indian's arm, and hardly had the words left his +lips than from the mouth of the hole came the wild cry that mounted +higher and higher, and then died away in a quavering tremolo. Instantly, +Connie thrust his face close to the hole. "Hello!" he cried at the top +of his lungs, and again: "Hello, in there!" + +A moment of tense silence followed, and then from the hole came the +sound of a voice. "Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello! Don't go 'way--for +God's sake! Hello, hello, hello----" + +"We're not going away," answered the boy, "we've come to get you +out--James Dean!" + +"James Dean! James Dean!" repeated the voice from the ground. "Get James +Dean out!" + +"We'll get you out, all right," reassured the boy. "But tell us how you +got in, and why you can't get out the same way?" + +"There's no way out!" wailed a voice of despair, "I'm buried alive, an' +there's no way out!" + +"How did you get in?" insisted the boy. "Come, think, because it'll help +us to get you out." + +"Get in--a long time ago--years and years ago--James Dean is very old. +The whole hill is hollow and James Dean is buried alive." + +Connie gave up trying to obtain information from the unfortunate man +whose inconsistent remarks were of no help. "I'll see if these rocks are +loose," he called, as he scraped the snow away from the edges of the +hole and tapped at the rock with the back of his belt ax. + +"It ain't loose!" came the voice. "It's solid rock--a hundred ton of it +caved in my tunnel. The whole hill is quartz inside and I shot a face +and the hill caved in." + +A hurried examination confirmed the man's statement. Connie found, under +the snow, evidences of the mouth of a tunnel, and then he saw that the +whole face of the ledge had fallen forward, blocking the tunnel at the +mouth. The small triangular opening used by the foxes, had originally +been a notch in the old face of the ledge. The boy stared at the mass of +rock in dismay. Fully twelve feet of solid rock separated the man from +the outside world! Once more he placed his mouth to the hole. "Hello, +James Dean!" + +"Hello!" + +"Isn't there any other opening to the cave?" he asked. + +"Opening to the cave? Another opening? No--no--only my window, an' +that's too high." + +"Window," cried Connie. "Where is your window?" + +"'Way up high--a hundred feet high. I've carried forty ton of rock--but +I never can reach it--because I've run out of rock--and my powder and +drills was buried in the cave-in." + +"I'm going to find that window!" cried the boy. "You go back and get as +close to the window as you can, and yell and I'll find it, and when I +do, we'll pull you out in a jiffy." + +"It's too high," wailed the man, "and my rock run out!" + +"Go over there and yell!" repeated the boy. "I'll let a line down and +we'll pull you out." + +Turning to 'Merican Joe, whose nerve had completely returned when he +became convinced that the author of the strange yell was a man of flesh +and blood, the boy ordered him post-haste to the tent to fetch the three +coils of strong _babiche_ line that he had added to the outfit. When the +Indian had gone, Connie struck straight up the hill, examining the +surface of the snow eagerly for sight of a hole. But it was not until +two hours later, after he and the Indian had circled and spiralled the +hill in every direction, that he was attracted to a patch of scrawny +scrub by the faint sound of a long-drawn yell. + +Into the scrub dashed the boy, and there, yawning black and forbidding, +beneath a low rock-ledge, was a hole at least four feet in height, and +eight or nine feet wide. And from far down in the depths came the sound +of the voice, loud and distinct now that he stood directly in front of +the hole. The boy called for 'Merican Joe, and while he waited for the +Indian to come, he noted that the edges of the hole, and all the bushes +that over-hung its mouth were crusted thickly with white frost. +Carefully he laid flat on his belly and edged himself along until he +could thrust his face into the abyss. The air felt very warm--a dank, +damp warmth, such as exudes from the depths of a swamp in summer. He +peered downward but his eyes could not penetrate the Stygian blackness +out of which rose the monotonous wail of the voice. + +"Strike a light down there!" cried the boy. "Or build a fire!" + +"Light! Fire! Ha, ha, ha." Thin, hollow laughter that was horrible to +hear, floated upward. "I ain't had a fire in years, and years--an' no +light." + +"Wait a minute!" called the boy, and began to collect dry twigs which he +made into a bundle. He lighted the bundle and when it was burning +fiercely he shouted, "Look out below!" And leaning far inward, he +dropped the blazing twigs. Down, down like a fiery comet they rushed +through the darkness, and then suddenly the comet seemed to explode and +a million tiny flames shot in all directions as the bundle burst from +contact with the rock floor. "Pile the sticks together and make a fire!" +called the boy, "and I'll toss you down some more!" He could see the +tiny red faggots moving toward a central spot, and presently a small +blaze flared up, and as more twigs were added to the pile the flame +brightened. Connie collected more wood, and calling a warning, tossed it +down. Soon a bright fire was burning far below, and in the flickering +light of the flames the boy saw a grotesque shape flitting here and +there adding twigs to the fire. He could not see the man clearly but he +could see that his head and face were covered with long white hair, and +that he was entirely naked except for a flapping piece of cloth that +hung from his middle. + +'Merican Joe arrived with the _babiche_ lines, and as the boy proceeded +to uncoil and knot them together, he sent the Indian to the tent for +some blankets. When he returned the line was ready, with a fixed loop in +the end. + +"All right!" called the boy, "here comes the line. Sit in the loop, and +hold on to the rope for all you're worth, and we'll have you out in a +few minutes!" He could hear the man talking to himself as he hovered +about the fire so closely that the flames seemed to be licking at his +skin. + +The man looked upward, and Connie paid out the line. When it reached the +bottom, the boy noted that there was only about ten feet of slack +remaining, and he heaved a sigh of relief. He could feel the man tugging +at the rope, and after a moment of silence the voice sounded from below: +"Haul away!" + +Connie and 'Merican Joe braced their feet on the rocks and pulled. They +could feel the rope sway like a pendulum as the man left the floor, and +then, hand over hand they drew him to the surface. While the Indian had +gone for the blankets, Connie had cut a stout pole to be used to support +the load while they got the man out of the hole. Even with the pole to +sustain the weight it was no small task to draw the man over the edge, +but at last it was accomplished, and James Dean stood once more in the +light of day after his years of imprisonment in the bowels of the earth. +With a cry of pain the man clapped his hands to his eyes, and Connie +immediately bound his handkerchief over them, as 'Merican Joe wrapped +the wasted form in thickness after thickness of blankets. When the +blankets were secured with the _babiche_ line the Indian lifted the man +to his shoulders, and struck out for the tent, as Connie hurried on +ahead to build up the fire and prepare some food. + +The bandage was left on the man's eyes, for the daylight had proved too +strong, but after the tent had warmed, the two dressed him in their +extra clothing. The man ate ravenously of broiled caribou steak and +drank great quantities of tea, after which, the day being still young, +camp was struck, and the outfit headed for the cabin. + +It was midnight when they drew up at the door, and soon a roaring fire +heated the interior. Connie turned the light very low, and removed the +bandage from the man's eyes. For a long time he sat silent, staring +about him, his eyes travelling slowly from one object to another, and +returning every few moments to linger upon the faces of his rescuers. At +times his lips moved slightly, as if to name some familiar object, but +no sound came, and his eyes followed every movement with interest, as +'Merican Joe prepared supper. + +When the meal was ready the man stepped to the pole-shelf that served as +a washstand, and as he caught sight of his face in the little mirror +that hung above it, he started back with a cry of horror. Then he +stepped to the mirror again, and for a long time he stared into it as +though fascinated by what he beheld. In a daze, he turned to Connie. +"What--what year is it?" he asked, in a voice that trembled with +uncertainty. And when the boy told him, he stood and batted his +squinting eyes uncomprehendingly. "Six years," he mumbled, "six years +buried alive. Six years living with weasels, and foxes, and fish without +eyes. I was thirty, then--and in six years I'm eighty--eighty years old +if I'm a day. Look at me! Ain't I eighty?" + +In truth, the man looked eighty, thought Connie as he glanced into the +face with its faded squinting eyes, the brow wrinkled and white as +paper, and the long white hair and beard that hung about his shoulders. +Aloud he said, "No, you'll be all right again in a little while. Living +in the dark that way has hurt your eyes, and turned your skin white, and +the worry about getting out has made your hair turn grey but you can cut +your hair, and shave off your whiskers, and the sun will tan you up +again. Let's eat now, and after supper if you feel like it you can tell +us how it happened." + +The man ate ravenously--so ravenously in fact, that Connie who had +learned that a starving man should be fed slowly at first, uttered a +protest. "You better go a little easy on the grub," he cautioned. "Not +that we haven't got plenty, but for your own good. Anyone that hasn't +had enough to eat for quite a while has got to take it slow." + +The man looked at the boy in surprise. "It ain't the grub--it's the +_cooking_. I've had plenty of grub, but I ain't had any fire." + +After supper the man begged to be allowed to help wash the dishes, and +when the task was finished, he drew his chair directly in front of the +stove, and opening the door, sat staring into the flames. "Seems like I +just got to look at the fire," he explained, "I ain't seen one in so +long." + +"And you ate all your grub raw?" asked the boy. + +James Dean settled himself in his chair, and shook his head. "No, not +raw. I might's well begin at the start. There's times when my head seems +to kind of go wrong, but it's all right now." + +"Wait a few days, if you'd rather," suggested the boy, but the man shook +his head: + +"No, I feel fine--I'd about give up ever seein' men again. Let's see +where'll I begin. I come north eight year ago. Prospected the +Coppermine, but there ain't nothin' there. Then I built me a cabin south +of the big lake. From there I prospected an' trapped, an' traded with +McTavish at Fort Norman. One time I struck some colour on the shore of +the lake, right at the foot of the hill where you found me. Looked like +it had come out of rotted quartz, an' I figured the mother lode would +maybe be in the hill so I fetched my drills, an' powder, an' run in a +drift. I hadn't got very far in when I shot the whole face out and +busted into a big cave. The whole inside was lined with rotten quartz, +but it wasn't poor man's gold. It was a stamp mill claim. + +"I prodded around in the cave all day, an' that evenin' some Injuns come +an' camped near my tent. They was goin' to trap fox, an' I didn't want +'em around, so I went over to their camp an' told 'em there was a +_tamahnawus_ around. Two of 'em was scairt stiff, but one wasn't. I told +'em they was a fox that could talk like a man. But one buck, he figured +I was lyin', so to make the play good, I told 'em I had the medicine to +make the _tamahnawus_ do what I told him. I said I would make him burn +the snow, so I slips back to my tent and laid a fuse out on the lake, +an' put about a pound of powder at the end of it, an' while she was +burnin' I went back. The Injuns could see the fuse sputterin' out on the +lake, but this one buck said it was a piece of rope I'd set afire. I +told him if it was rope it would go out, but if it was _tamahnawus_ I'd +tell him to make a big fire. So I yelled at the _tamahnawus_ a couple of +times, and when the spark got to the powder she flashed up big, an' like +to scairt them Injuns to death. In the morning they beat it--an' that +was the end of them. If you're smart you can out-guess them Injuns." +The man paused, and Connie, although he said nothing, smiled grimly for +well he knew that the man had paid dearly for his trick. + +"Nex' day I decided to shoot down a face of the rotten quartz to see how +thick she was, an' I drilled my holes an' tamped in the shots, an' fired +'em. I had gone back in the cave, instead of steppin' outside, an' when +the shots went off the whole ledge tipped over, an' plugged up my +tunnel. I'd shoved my drills an' powder into the tunnel, an they was +buried. + +"Well, there I was. At first I yelled, an' hollered, an' I clawed at the +rock with my hands. Then I come to. The cave was dark as pitch, the only +light I could see come through under the rocks where the foxes use--only +they wasn't any foxes then. There I was without nothin' to eat an' +drink, an' no way out. I had matches, but there wasn't nothin' to burn. +Then I started out to explore the cave. It was an awful job in the dark. +Now an' then I'd light a match an' hold it till it burnt my fingers. It +was a big cave, an' around a corner of rock, five or six hundred foot +back from the hole, I found the window you drug me out through. That +let in a little light, but it was high up an' no way to get to it. I +heard runnin' water, an' found a crick run right through the middle of +that room, it was the biggest room of all. In one place there was a +rapids not over six inches deep where it run over a ledge of rocks. I +crossed it, an' found another long room. It was hot in there an' damp +an' it stunk of sulphur. There was a boilin' spring in there, an' a +little crick run from it to the big cold crick. I heard a splashin' in +the rapids an' I was so scairt I couldn't run. There wouldn't have been +no place to run to if I could. So I laid there, an' listened. The +splashin' kept up an' I quit bein' so scairt, an' went to the rapids. +The splashin' was still goin' on an' it took me quite a while there in +the dark to figure out it was fish. Well, when I did figure it, I give a +whoop. I wasn't goin' to starve, anyhow--not with fish, an' a boilin' +spring to cook 'em. I took off my shoes an' waded in an' stood still in +the rapids. Pretty quick I could feel 'em bumpin' my feet. Then I stuck +my hands in an' when they bumped into 'em I'd throw 'em out. I got so I +never missed after a couple of years. They run in schools, an' it got so +I knew when they was up the river, an' when they was down. I'd scoop +one or two out, an' carry 'em to the spring, an' I made a sort of pen +out of rocks in the boilin' water, an' I'd throw 'em in, an' a half-hour +or so later, they'd be done. But they stunk of sulphur, an' tasted +rotten, an' at first I couldn't go 'em--but I got used to it after a +while. + +"The first year, I used to yell out the door, about every couple of +hours, then three times a day, an' at last I only yelled when the light +in the hole told me the sun was going down, an' again when it come up. +In summer a rabbit would now an' then come in the hole an' I got so I +could kill 'em with rocks when they set for a minute in the light at the +end of the hole. They was plenty o' weasels--ermine they call 'em up +here, but they ain't fit to eat. Towards spring a couple of black fox +come nosin' into the hole, an' I slipped in a rock so they couldn't get +out. I done it first, jest to have company. They was so wild, I couldn't +see nothin' but their eyes for a long time. But I scooped fish out for +'em an' fed 'em every day in the same place an' they got tamer. Then +they had a litter of young ones! Say, they was the cutest little fellers +you ever saw. I fed 'em an' after a while they was so tame I could +handle 'em. I never could handle the old ones, but they got so tame +they'd take fish out of my hand. + +"All this time I used to go to the hole every day, an' two or three +times a day, an' lay with my face in it, so my eyes would get the light. +I was afraid I'd go blind bein' all the time in the dark. An' between +times I'd carry loose rock an' pile it under that window. I spent years +of work on pilin' them rocks, an' then I used up all the rocks an' had +to quit. + +"When the little foxes got about a quarter grow'd I took 'em one at a +time, an' shoved 'em out the hole, so their eyes wouldn't go bad. After +a while I could let 'em all out together, an' they would always come +back. I was careful to keep 'em well fed. But I didn't dare let the old +ones go, I was afraid they'd never come back an' would drag off the +little ones, too. It wasn't so long before them six little fellows could +beat me scoopin' out fish. Well, one day the big ones got out, an' the +little ones followed. They'd clawed the rock away where I hadn't jammed +it in tight. I never felt so bad in my life. I sat there in the dark and +bawled like a baby. It was like losin' yer family all to once. They was +all I had. I never expected to see 'em again. They stayed out all night, +but in the mornin' back they all come--big ones an' all! After that I +left the hole open, an' they come an' went as they pleased. Well, they +had more little ones, an' the little ones had little ones, until they +was forty or fifty black fox lived with me in the cave--an' I had 'em +all named. They used to fetch in ptarmigan an' rabbits an' I'd take 'em +away an' eat 'em. Then one or two begun to turn up missin' an' I figured +they'd be'n trapped. That give me an idea. If I could tie a message onto +'em, maybe sometime someone would trap one and find out where I was. But +I didn't have no pencil nor nothin' to write on. So I begun tearin' +strips from my coat an' pants an' tied 'em around their necks, but the +goods was gettin' rottin, an' bushes clawed it off, or maybe the foxes +did. I used up my coat, an' most of my pants, an' then I used ermine +skins. I figured that if any one trapped a black fox wearin' an ermine +skin collar it would call for an investigation. If it was a white +trapper he would tumble right away that something was wrong, an' if it +was an Injun he would brag about it when he traded the fur, an' then +the factor would start the investigation. But nothin' come of it till +you come along, although they was several of them foxes trapped--as long +as three years back. But I kept on yellin' night an' mornin'. Sometime, +I know'd someone would hear. An' that's all there is to it, except that +my clothes an' shoes was all wore out--but I didn't mind so much because +it was warm as summer all the time, an' no mosquitoes in the cave." + +"And now you can rest up for a few days, and well take you to Fort +Norman," smiled Connie, when the man relapsed into silence, "and you can +go out in the summer with the brigade." + +"Go out?" asked the man, vaguely. "Go out where?" + +"Why!" exclaimed the boy, "go out--wherever you want to go." + +The man lapsed into a long silence as he sat with his grey beard resting +upon his breast and gazed into the fire. "No," he said, at length, "I'll +go to Fort Norman, an' get some drills an' powder, an' shoot me a new +tunnel. I'll take a stove so I can have a fire, an' cook. I like the +cave. It's all the home I got, an' someone's got to look after them +foxes." + +"But the gold?" asked the boy. "How about bringing in a stamp mill and +turn your hill into a regular outfit?" + +James Dean shook his head. "No, it would spoil the cave an' besides +where would me and the foxes go? That hill is the only home we've +got--an' I'm gettin' old. I'm eighty if I'm a day. When I'm dead you can +have the hill--but you'll look after them foxes, won't you, boy?" + +A week later Connie and 'Merican Joe and James Dean pulled up before the +Hudson's Bay Post at Fort Norman, and, as the boy entered the door, +McTavish greeted him in surprise. "You're just the one I want!" he +cried. "I was just about to send an Indian runner to your cabin with +this letter. It come from the Yukon by special messenger." + +Connie tore the document open, and as he read, his eyes hardened. It was +from Waseche Bill, and it had not been intrusted to "Roaring Mike +O'Reilly" to transcribe. It ran thus: + + +MR. C. MORGAN, + +Cannady. + + Son, yo better come back yere. Theys an outfit thats tryin to horn + in on us on Ten Bow. They stack up big back in the states--name's + Guggenhammer, or somethin' like it, an they say we kin take our + choist to either fight or sell out. If we fight they say they'll + clean us out. I ain't goin' to do one thing or nother till I hear + from you. Come a runnin' an' les here you talk. + +Your pard, +W. BILL. + + +"What's the matter, son, bad news?" asked McTavish, as he noted the +scowling face of the boy. + +"Read it," he snapped, and tossed the letter to the big Scotchman. Then +stepping to the counter he rapidly wrote a report to Dan McKeever, in re +the disappearance of James Dean, after which he turned to 'Merican +Joe--"I've got to go back to Ten Bow," he said. "All the traps and the +fur and everything we've got here except my sled and dog-team are yours. +Stay as long as you want to, and when you are tired of trapping, come on +over into the Yukon country, and I'll give you a job--unless the +Guggenhammers bust me--but if they do they'll know they've been +somewhere when they get through!" + +And without waiting to hear the Indian's reply, the boy turned to +McTavish and ordered his trail grub, which 'Merican Joe packed on to +the boy's sled as fast as the factor's clerk could get it out. +"So-long," called Connie, as he stood beside the sled a half-hour later. +"Here goes a record trip to the Yukon! And, say, McTavish, give James +Dean anything he wants, and charge it to me!" + +"All right, lad," called the factor, "but what are ye goin' to do? Dan +McKeever'll be wantin' to know, when he comes along?" + +"Do?" asked the boy. + +"Yes, are ye goin' to sell out, or fight 'em?" + +"Fight 'em!" cried the boy. "Fight 'em to the last ditch! If they've +told Waseche we've _got_ to sell, I wouldn't sell for a hundred million +dollars--and neither would he! We'll fight 'em--and what's more we'll +beat 'em--you wait an' see!" And with a yell the boy cracked his whip, +and the dogs, with the great Leloo in the lead, sprang out on to the +long, long trail to the Yukon. + +THE END. + + + + + _A Selection from the + Catalogue of_ + + G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS + + [Illustration] + + Complete Catalogues sent + on application + + + Connie Morgan + in the Lumber Camps + + By + + James B. Hendryx + + Author of "Connie Morgan in Alaska," "Connie Morgan + with the Mounted," etc. + + +All his many friends will be glad to greet Connie Morgan again. + +This time we find him in the timber regions of northern Minnesota, where +he solves a mystery that robbed him and his partner of thousands of +dollars' worth of logs. He is the same straight-forward lad "who finds +out what has to be done, and does it the best he knows how." + +Mr. Hendryx has lived much in the lumber woods and has written an +excellent, exciting story of adventure. + +G.P. Putnam's Sons + +New York London + + + Connie Morgan + in Alaska + + By + + James B. Hendryx + + Author of "The Promise," "The Law of the Woods," etc. + + _12o. Over twenty illustrations_ + + +Mr. Hendryx, as he has ably demonstrated in his many well-known tales, +knows his Northland thoroughly, but he has achieved a reputation as a +writer possibly "too strong" for the younger literary digestion. It is a +delight, therefore, to find that he can present properly, in a capital +story of a boy, full of action and adventure, and one in whom boys +delight, the same thorough knowledge of people and customs of the North. + +G.P. Putnam's Sons + +New York London + + + Connie Morgan with the + Mounted + + By + + James B. Hendryx + + Author of "Connie Morgan in Alaska" + + _Illustrated._ + + +It tells how "Sam Morgan's Boy," well known to readers of Mr. Hendryx's +"Connie Morgan in Alaska," daringly rescued a man who was rushing to +destruction on an ice floe and how, in recognition of his +quick-wittedness and nerve, he was made a Special Constable in the +Northwest Mounted Police, with the exceptional adventures that fell to +his lot in that perilous service. It is a story of the northern +wilderness, clean and bracing as the vigorous, untainted winds that +sweep over that region; the story of a boy who wins out against the +craft of Indians and the guile of the bad white man of the North; the +story of a boy who succeeds where men fail. + + +G.P. Putnam's Sons + +New York London + + + The Promise + + A Tale of the Great Northwest and of a + Man Who Kept His Word + + By James B. Hendryx + + +A tale of a strong man's regeneration--of the transformation of +"Broadway Bill" Carmody, millionaire's son, rounder, and sport, whose +drunken sprees have finally overtaxed the patience of his father and +_the_ girl, into a Man, clear-eyed and clean-lived, a true descendant of +the fighting McKims. + + +The Texan + +A Story of the Cattle Country + +By James B. Hendryx + +Author of "The Promise," etc. + + +A novel of the cattle country and of the mountains, by James B. Hendryx, +will at once commend itself to the host of readers who have +enthusiastically followed this brilliant writer's work. Again he has +written a red-blooded, romantic story of the great open spaces, of the +men who "do" things and of the women who are brave--a tale at once +turbulent and tender, impassioned but restrained. + + +G.P. Putnam's Sons + +New York London + + + The White Blanket + + By + + Belmore Browne + + Author of "The Quest of the Golden Valley," etc. + + _12o. Illustrated_ + + +A sequel to _The Quest of the Golden Valley_, this time taking the chums +through the vicissitudes of an Alaskan winter. They trap the many +fur-bearing animals, hunt the big game, camp with the Indians, do +dog-driving, snow-shoeing, etc. With the coming of spring they descend +one of the wilderness rivers on a raft and at the eleventh hour, after +being wrecked in a dangerous canyon, they discover a fabulous quartz +lode, and succeed in reaching the sea coast. + + +G.P. Putnam's Sons + +New York London + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Connie Morgan in the Fur Country, by +James B. 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