, stood looking
down at an indistinct object which lay upon the blood-trampled snow.

Carmody turned and shouted a greeting, but without a word the Irishman
advanced to his side until he, too, stood looking down at the thing in
the snow. Suddenly Bill's hand was seized in a mighty grip.

"Man! 'Tis _her_, an' no mistake! She's done for at lasht--an' blade to
fang, in open foight ye've knoifed her! Sure, 'tis a gr-rand toime
ye've had altogether," he said, glancing at the carcasses, "wid six
dead besides her an' three more as good as."

Bill laughed: "This wolf--the big white one--seems to enjoy a
reputation, then?"

"R-r-reputation! R-r-reputation, is ut? Good Lord, man! Don't ye know
her? 'Tis th' werwolf! D'ablish, th' _loup-garou_, the Frinchies call
her; an' the white divil, the Injuns--an' good rayson, f'r to me own
knowledge she's kilt foive folks, big an' shmall, an' some Injuns
besides. They claim she's a divil, an' phwin she howls, 'tis because
some sowl has missed th' happy huntin' grounds in th' dyin', an' she's
laughin'."

"I don't know that I blame them," said Bill. "She favored me with a
vocal selection. And, believe me, she was no mocking-bird."

"Well, she looks dead, now," grinned Fallon; "but we'd besht make sure.
Owld man Frontenelle kilt her wunst. Seven year back, ut was over on
Monish.

"He shot her clean t'rough th' neck an' dhrug her to his cabin be th'
tail. He was for skinnin' her flat f'r th' robe she'd make. He had her
stretched out phwin wid a flash an' a growl, she was at um, an' wid wan
clap av th' jaws she ripped away face an' half th' scalp.

"They found um wanderin' blind on th' lake ice an' carried um to
Skelly's phwere he died in tin days' toime av hydrophoby, shnarlin' an'
bitin' at folks till they had to chain um in th' shtoreroom."

As he spoke, Fallon picked up the axe, and with several well-directed
blows shattered the skull of the werwolf against any possibility of a
repetition of the Frontenelle incident.

"But come, man, get yer rackets an' we'll be hittin' the thrail f'r
camp. Sure, Frinchy'll be scairt shtiff av we lave um longer."

"Rackets?" asked Bill, with a look of perplexity.

"Yer shnow shoes, av coorse."

"Haven't got any. And I don't suppose I could use them if I had." The
other stared at him incredulously.

"Not got any! Thin how'd ye git here?"

"Walked--or rather, stumbled along."

"Phwere from?"

"It started to snow as I left the old shack-