or the north side
of a long, narrow island. As soon as they passed behind it, Oo-koo-hoo
hurried across the intervening space, and ran along the southern shore
to head them off. The eastern end of the island dwindled into a long
point and it was there that The Owl hoped to get a shot. Sure enough
he did, for he arrived there ahead of the deer. Though he had lost
sight of them, he knew they were nearing him, for he could hear the
crunching sound of their hoofs in the frosty snow, and later he could
even hear that strange clicking sound caused by the muscular action of
the hoofs in walking--a sound peculiar to caribou.

[Illustration: Oo-koo-hoo could even hear the strange clicking sound,
caused by the muscular action of the hoofs in walking--a sound peculiar
to caribou. He cautiously went down on one knee and there waited with
his gun cocked and in position. Now antlered heads appeared beyond the
openings between the snow-mantled trees. The hunter, taking aim,
addressed them: "My brothers, I need your . . ." Then the violent
report of his gun shattered the . . . See Chapter VI.]

Oo-koo-hoo cautiously went down on one knee and there waited with his
gun cocked and in position. The air was scarcely moving. Now antlered
heads appeared beyond the openings between the snow-mantled trees. The
hunter, taking aim, addressed them:

"My brothers, I need your . . ." Then the violent report of his gun
shattered the stillness, and the leader, a doe, lunged forward a few
paces, staggered upon trembling legs, and then sank down into the
brilliantly sunny snow. But before Oo-koo-hoo could re-load for a
second shot the rest of the little band passed out of range, and, with
their high-stepping, hackney action, soon passed out of sight. So,
later on, with our sled again heavily loaded, and with packs of meat
upon our backs, we set out for home.

THE MAN WHO HIBERNATED

Next morning, soon after sunrise, while I was breaking trail across a
lake, I espied a log house in a little clearing beside a large beaver
meadow. As it was about the time we usually stopped for our second
breakfast, I turned in the direction of the lonely abode. It was a
small, well-built house, and with the exception of the spaces at the
two windows and the door, was entirely enclosed by neatly stacked
firewood suitable for a stove. Beyond, half built in the rising
ground, stood a little log stable, and near it a few cattle were eating
from hayst