eye to make dark rings that should supply a horror-stricken look. Then
he started in to pound on Quonab's tom-tom, singing:

"Evil spirit leave me;
Dog-face do not harm me."

Quonab sat up in amazement. Rolf paid no heed, but went on, bawling
and drumming and staring upward into vacant space. After a few minutes
Skookum scratched and whined at the shanty door. Rolf rose, took his
knife, cut a bunch of hair from Skookum's neck and burned it in the
torch, then went on singing with horrid solemnity:

"Evil spirit leave me;
Dog-face do not harm me."

At last he turned, and seeming to discover that Quonab was looking on,
said:

"The dream dog came to me. I thought I saw him lick deer grease from the
frying pan behind the shanty. He laughed, for he knew that he made evil
medicine for me. I am trying to drive him away, so he cannot harm me. I
do not know. I am like my mother. She was very wise, but she died after
it."

Now Quonab arose, cut some more hair from Skookum, added a pinch of
tobacco, then, setting it ablaze, he sang in the rank odour of the
burning weed and hair, his strongest song to kill ill magic; and Rolf,
as he chuckled and sweetly sank to sleep, knew that the fight was won.
His friend would never, never more install Skookum in the high and
sacred post of pot-licker, dishwasher, or final polisher.

Chapter 35. Snaring Rabbits

The deepening snow about the cabin was marked in all the thickets by
the multitudinous tracks of the snowshoe rabbits or white hares.
Occasionally the hunters saw them, but paid little heed. Why should they
look at rabbits when deer were plentiful?

"You catch rabbit?" asked Quonab one day when Rolf was feeling fit
again.

"I can shoot one with my bow," was the answer, "but why should I, when
we have plenty of deer?"

"My people always hunted rabbits. Sometimes no deer were to be found;
then the rabbits were food. Sometimes in the enemy's country it was not
safe to hunt, except rabbits, with blunt arrows, and they were food.
Sometimes only squaws and children in camp--nothing to eat; no guns;
then the rabbits were food."

"Well, see me get one," and Rolf took his bow and arrow. He found many
white bunnies, but always in the thickest woods. Again and again he
tried, but the tantalizing twigs and branches muffled the bow and
turned the arrow. It was hours before he returned with a fluffy snowshoe
rabbit.

"That is not our way." Quonab led to the