make un, Dick?"

"I gets one marten an' shoots an otter," answered Dick.

"You gettin' any, Bill?" asked Ed, turning to Bill, who was reclining
in one of the bunks and smoking in luxurious contentment.

"Aye, one marten, an' I shoots a wolf last evenin'--a wonderful poor
wolf, an' his skin ain't much account. Three of un were after me on
th' trail all day, but I only gets one."

"Three wolves, now--an' poor uns," commented Dick. "Wolves ain't
follerin' a man all day unless they's hungry, an' they ain't like t'
be hungry where they's deer."

"No," agreed Ed, who had lighted his pipe, one moccasined heel drawn
up on the edge of the bunk upon which he lounged, the other long leg
stretched out. "Wolves follers th' deer, but when they ain't no deer
t' faller they don't faller un. Which means they ain't no deer in this
part o' th' country, an' so they just naturally fallers Bill as th'
next best meat."

"An' bein' poor means they's hungry, an' bein' hungry means they's
lickin' their chops for Bill," continued Dick.

"Were it night, now?" asked Ed.

"No, 'twere broad day," answered Bill, undisturbed.

"Now if 'twere night, I'd say they was follerin' you because your red
hair lights th' trail up for un."

"'Tain't no redder 'n your'n," retorted Bill.

"Never mind un, Bill," said Bob sympathetically. "Ed's jealous because
your hair's curly an' his 'n ain't."

"Now, how about gettin' grub?" suggested Ed, when the laugh had
subsided. "They ain't nothin' t' kill, an' we got t' haul grub in from
th' Bay. I'm thinkin' t' start down Friday, an' if one o' you wants t'
go along, we'll both haul up a load on our flatsleds. How'd you like
t' go, Bill? They's a moon, an' by travellin' some at night we'll make
th' Bay for th' New Year, goin' light, an' be back by th' first o'
February, whatever, with our loads."

"I'd like wonderful well t' go!" answered Bill, elated at the prospect
of a visit to the Bay, brief as it would be.

"What you think of un?" asked Ed, addressing Dick and Bob jointly.

"We got t' have grub if we stays on th' trails," agreed Dick, "an'
they's no sign o' killin' any meat."

"Aye, we'll all have t' leave th' trails by th' first o' March,
whatever, unless some of us goes for grub," said Bob.

"Bill an' me bein' away'll stretch th' grub we has, for Bill be a
wonderful eater--" Bill interjected a protest, but Ed, ignoring it,
continued: "An' what we hauls back on th' flatsleds'll carry us over