f snaring in crusted snow, or intercepting while swimming, and
then--butchery.

The caribou doesn't run. It doesn't bound. It floats away into space.

One moment a sandy-coloured form, with black nose, black feet, and a
glory of white statuary above its head, is seen against the far reaches
of snow. The next, the form has shrunk--and shrunk--and shrunk, antlers
laid back against its neck, till there is a vanishing speck on the
horizon. The caribou has not been standing at all. It has skimmed out of
sight; and if there is any clear ice across the marshes, it literally
glides beyond vision from very speed. But, provided no man-smell crosses
its course, the caribou is vulnerable in its habits. Morning and
evening, it comes back to the same watering-place; and it returns to the
same bed for the night. If the trapper can conceal himself without
crossing its trail, he easily obtains the fine filling for his
snow-shoes.

* * * * *

Moccasins must now be made.

The trapper shears off the coarse hair with a sharp knife. The hide is
soaked; and a blunter blade tears away the remaining hairs till the skin
is white and clean. The flesh side is similarly cleaned and the skin
rubbed with all the soap and grease it will absorb. A process of beating
follows till the hide is limber. Carelessness at this stage makes
buckskin soak up water like a sponge and dry to a shapeless board. The
skin must be stretched and pulled till it will stretch no more. Frost
helps the tanning, drying all moisture out; and the skin becomes as soft
as down, without a crease. The smoke of punk from a rotten tree gives
the dark yellow colour to the hide and prevents hardening. The skin is
now ready for the needle; and all odd bits are hoarded away.

Equipped with moccasins and snow-shoes, the trapper is now the winged
messenger of the tragic fates to the forest world.

CHAPTER XI

THE INDIAN TRAPPER

It is dawn when the Indian trapper leaves his lodge.

In midwinter of the Far North, dawn comes late. Stars, which shine with
a hard, clear, crystal radiance only seen in northern skies, pale in the
gray morning gloom; and the sun comes over the horizon dim through mists
of frost-smoke. In an hour the frost-mist, lying thick to the touch like
clouds of steam, will have cleared; and there will be nothing from
sky-line to sky-line but blinding sunlight and snowglare.

The Indian trapper must be far afield before mid-