ight, Mukoki's many experiences as a wolf hunter
assured him; and he paused long enough to set his traps, afterward
covering them over with three or four inches of snow.

Continuing his hunt, the old Indian soon struck the fresh spoor of a
deer. Believing that the animal would not travel for any great distance
in the deep snow, he swiftly took up the trail. Half a mile farther on
he stopped abruptly with a grunt of unbounded surprise. Another hunter
had taken up the trail!

With increased caution Mukoki now advanced. Two hundred feet more and a
second pair of moccasined feet joined in the pursuit, and a little later
still a third!

Led on by curiosity more than by the hope of securing a partnership
share in the quarry, the Indian slipped silently and swiftly through the
forest. As he emerged from a dense growth of spruce through which the
tracks led him Mukoki was treated to another surprise by almost
stumbling over the carcass of the deer he had been following. A brief
examination satisfied him that the doe had been shot at least two hours
before. The three hunters had cut out her heart, liver and tongue and
had also taken the hind quarters, leaving the remainder of the carcass
and the skin! Why had they neglected this most valuable part of their
spoils? With a new gleam of interest in his eyes Mukoki carefully
scrutinized the moccasin trails. He soon discovered that the Indians
ahead of him were in great haste, and that after cutting the choicest
meat from the doe they had started off to make up for lost time by
running!

With another grunt of astonishment the old Indian returned to the
carcass, quickly stripped off the skin, wrapped in it the fore quarters
and ribs of the doe, and thus loaded, took up the home trail. It was
dark when he reached camp. Wabi and Rod had not yet returned. Building a
huge fire and hanging the ribs of the doe on a spit before it, he
anxiously awaited their appearance.

Half an hour later he heard the shout which brought him quickly to where
Wabi was holding the partly unconscious form of Rod in his arms.

It took but a few moments to carry the injured youth to camp, and not
until Rod was resting upon a pile of blankets in their shack, with the
warmth of the fire reviving him, did Wabi vouchsafe an explanation to
the old Indian.

"I guess he's got a broken arm, Muky," he said. "Have you any hot
water?"

"Shot?" asked the old hunter, paying no attention to the question. He
dropped