d come into the North for the first time, thin-chested and with a bad
lung. "You can go if you insist, young man," one of the doctors had told
him, "but you're going to your own funeral." And now he had a five-inch
expansion and was as tough as a knot. The first rose-tints of the sun were
creeping over the mountain-tops; the air was filled with the sweetness of
flowers, and dew, and growing things, and his lungs drew in deep breaths of
oxygen laden with the tonic and perfume of balsam.

He was more demonstrative than his companion in the joyousness of this wild
life. It made him want to shout, and sing, and whistle. He restrained
himself this morning. The thrill of the hunt was in his blood.

While Otto saddled the horses Langdon made the bannock. He had become an
expert at what he called "wild-bread" baking, and his method possessed the
double efficiency of saving both waste and time.

He opened one of the heavy canvas flour sacks, made a hollow in the flour
with his two doubled fists, partly filled this hollow with a pint of water
and half a cupful of caribou grease, added a tablespoonful of baking powder
and a three-finger pinch of salt, and began to mix. Inside of five minutes
he had the bannock loaves in the big tin reflector, and half an hour later
the sheep steaks were fried, the potatoes done, and the bannock baked to a
golden brown.

The sun was just showing its face in the east when they trailed out of
camp. They rode across the valley, but walked up the slope, the horses
following obediently in their footsteps.

It was not difficult to pick up Thor's trail. Where he had paused to snarl
back defiance at his enemies there was a big red spatter on the ground;
from this point to the summit they followed a crimson thread of blood.
Three times in descending into the other valley they found where Thor had
stopped, and each time they saw where a pool of blood had soaked into the
earth or run over the rock.

They passed through the timber and came to the creek, and here, in a strip
of firm black sand, Thor's footprints brought them to a pause. Bruce
stared. An exclamation of amazement came from Langdon, and without a word
having passed between them he drew out his pocket-tape and knelt beside one
of the tracks.

"Fifteen and a quarter inches!" he gasped.

"Measure another," said Bruce.

"Fifteen and--a half!"

Bruce looked up the gorge.

"The biggest I ever see was fourteen an' a half," he said, and there