.

"That's new to me," said Jones. "Poor little beggars!"

Rea doubtfully shook his shaggy head.

Next day Jones traded with the Yellow Knives. He had a goodly supply of
baubles, besides blankets, gloves and boxes of canned goods, which he
had brought for such trading. He secured a dozen of the large-boned,
white and black Indian dogs, huskies, Rea called them--two long sleds
with harness and several pairs of snowshoes. This trade made Jones rub
his hands in satisfaction, for during all the long journey north he had
failed to barter for such cardinal necessities to the success of his
venture.

"Better have doled out the grub to them in rations," grumbled Rea.

Twenty-four hours sufficed to show Jones the wisdom of the trapper's
words, for in just that time the crazed, ignorant savages had glutted
the generous store of food, which should have lasted them for weeks.
The next day they were begging at the cabin door. Rea cursed and
threatened them with his fists, but they returned again and again.

Days passed. All the time, in light and dark, the Indians filled the
air with dismal chant and doleful incantations to the Great Spirit, and
the tum! tum! tum! tum! of tomtoms, a specific feature of their wild
prayer for food.

But the white monotony of the rolling land and level lake remained
unbroken. The reindeer did not come. The days became shorter, dimmer,
darker. The mercury kept on the slide.

Forty degrees below zero did not trouble the Indians. They stamped till
they dropped, and sang till their voices vanished, and beat the tomtoms
everlastingly. Jones fed the children once each day, against the
trapper's advice.

One day, while Rea was absent, a dozen braves succeeded in forcing an
entrance, and clamored so fiercely, and threatened so desperately, that
Jones was on the point of giving them food when the door opened to
admit Rea.

With a glance he saw the situation. He dropped the bucket he carried,
threw the door wide open and commenced action. Because of his great
bulk he seemed slow, but every blow of his sledge-hammer fist knocked a
brave against the wall, or through the door into the snow. When he
could reach two savages at once, by way of diversion, he swung their
heads together with a crack. They dropped like dead things. Then he
handled them as if they were sacks of corn, pitching them out into the
snow. In two minutes the cabin was clear. He banged the door and
slipped the bar in place.

"Buff,