open
admiration.

"It pointed _there_," she continued, extending her hand in a
north-westerly direction.

"The Ukon River flows there," returned Nazinred thoughtfully, as he
traced the various parts of the letter with his forefinger.

"Is that river better than the Greygoose one?" asked Cheenbuk.

"No. It is as good--not better," replied the Indian, in an absent mood.
"Adolay, this piece of bark carries some strange news. Here we have
the whole tribe starting off for the Ukon with all their tents,
provisions, and everything in sledges. So they left in the cold
season--"

"Yes, father," interrupted Adolay, knitting her pretty brows as she
earnestly scanned the letter, "but don't you see the line of geese
flying over the tree-tops? That shows that it was at the beginning of
the warm time."

"Adolay is the worthy daughter of a Dogrib chief!" said Nazinred,
patting the girl's shoulder.

"I hope she'll be the worthy wife of an Eskimo youth some day," thought
Cheenbuk, but, as usual, he said nothing.

"And look here, father," continued Adolay,--"what do they mean by having
all their snow-shoes slung on their guns instead of on their feet?"

"It means that the snow was very soft, beginning to melt, and it was
easier to tramp through it without snow-shoes than with them. I hope
they have been careful, for there is great danger in crossing lakes and
rivers at such a time of the year."

"No fear of danger," said Adolay, with a laugh, "when Magadar leads the
way. Don't you see him there in front? Mother knows how to draw
faces--only his nose is too long."

"That is to show that he is the guide," observed Nazinred. "Did you not
do the very same thing yourself when you made Cheenbuk's nose far too
long--for the same purpose?"

Adolay laughed heartily at this, and Cheenbuk joined her, feeling his
nose at the same time, as if to make sure that its handsome proportions
were not changed.

"And look--look, father!" resumed the girl, growing excited over the
letter; "that is your friend Mozwa! I feel sure of it by the shape of
his legs. Who could mistake his legs? Nobody is like mother. She does
legs as well as faces. But what is that on his wife's back--not a new
baby, surely?"

"Why not, my child?"

"Poor man!" sighed Adolay. "He had enough to provide for before."

"Poor woman!" thought Cheenbuk, but he maintained a discreet silence.

Of course it was decided to follow up the trail of the tribe witho