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