e a porcupine's quills."

"And she knew jolly well how to use them. Do you think she's worth
skinning?"

The dead lynx was examined.

"I don't think the hide is worth the trouble," commented Holden. "It's a
bit ragged in any case, and the hunting-knife did not improve it. But
I'll take the tail as a memento. What about the antelope?"

"Oh, I got him all right. He's lying somewhere in the grass."

"Good!" exclaimed Alf delightedly. He had soon recovered from the
exhaustion of the fight. "That will surprise the paters when they return
to grub. And say! I'm as hungry as a hawk. Let's get back to camp. It
must be getting on for noon by this time."

"Half-past ten. That's all," remarked Bob, as he looked at his watch.
"Time drags when the appetite's healthy. I vote we leave the antelope
where it is for the present, and shoot a few chicken for dinner. It
would be a pity for us to try skinning the animal. We might spoil it
altogether. I dare say father will do it for us afterwards."

"What about wolves?" questioned Alf.

"Yes, I hadn't thought of them. But I don't think there's much chance of
wolves coming in the daytime. It would be safe enough until night."

"Right you are," agreed Alf. "First for the tail of my lynx, and then a
bee-line for the camp."

Retracing their path by the buffalo trail, the boys were soon on the
home journey again. Five prairie chicken were bagged on the way, and
soon the hunters were once more at the camp-ground.

Of course Holden's first move was to strip, plunge into the river, and
then robe himself in garments that were less like a rag-picker's bundle.
Meantime, Arnold set to work lighting a fire and preparing the chicken
for roasting on wooden spits, as their camping experience had taught
them.

By midday the meal was in readiness. The birds were cooked, "biscuits"
were baked in the camp-oven, the fragrant smell of coffee was issuing
from a billy-tin, and all preparations completed to welcome the elder
hunters.

But time went past, and there was no sign of a canoe on the river.

"I wonder if they have missed their way?" remarked Alf, to whom the
waiting was a trial, considering inside calls and tempting odours.

"I don't think that's likely," said Bob. "Your dad and mine are both old
backwoodsmen. I'm beginning to think something has happened----"

"An accident?"

"Possibly. But of course we can't tell. But it isn't like them to be
late when they promised to be back by noon