ring under the
grim scrutiny of her people. Dick's lofty scorn looked neither to right
nor left, but paddled fiercely ahead until the Indians were well astern
and hidden by the twists of the river. Sam Bolton proceeded serenely on
in his accustomed way.

Only, when the tribesmen had been left behind, he leaned forward and
began to talk to the girl in low-voiced Ojibway, comforting her with
many assurances, as one would comfort a child. After a time she ceased
trembling and looked up. But her glance made no account of the steady,
old man who had so gently led her from her slough of despond, but rested
on the straight, indignant back of the glorious youth who had cast her
into it. And Sam Bolton, knowing the ways of a maid, merely sighed, and
resumed his methodical paddling.

At the noon stop and on portage it was impossible to gauge the feeling
of the savages in regard to the matter, but at night the sentiment was
strongly enough marked. May-may-gwan herself, much to her surprise, was
no further censured, and was permitted to escape with merely the slights
and sneers the women were able to inflict on her. Perhaps her masters,
possessed of an accurate sense of justice, realised that the latter
affair had not been her fault. Or, what is more likely, their race
antagonism, always ready in these fierce men of the Silent Places,
seized instinctively on this excuse to burst into a definite
unfriendliness. The younger men drew frankly apart. The older made it a
point to sit by the white men's fire, but they conversed formally and
with many pauses. Day by day the feeling intensified. A strong wind had
followed from the north for nearly a week, and so, of course, they had
seen no big game, for the wary animals scented them long before they
came in sight. Meat began to run low. So large a community could not
subsist on the nightly spoils of the net and traps. The continued
ill-luck was attributed to the visitors. Finally camp was made for a day
while Crooked Nose, the best trailer and hunter of them all, went out to
get a caribou. Dick, hoping thus to win a little good will, lent his
Winchester for the occasion.

The Indian walked very carefully through the mossy woods until he came
upon a caribou trail still comparatively fresh. Nobody but Crooked Nose
could have followed the faint indications, but he did so, at first
rapidly, then more warily, finally at a very snail's pace. His progress
was noiseless. Such a difficult result