r 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 ha