asket
mounted on trailing poles and harnessed to the sides of the animal.

"Hey! hey! they are gaining on him!" a warrior shouted. At this juncture
two of the canines had almost nabbed their furry prey by the back. But
he was too cunning for them. He dropped instantly and sent both dogs
over his head, rolling and spinning, then made another flight at right
angles to the first. This gave the Eskimo a chance to cut the triangle.
He gained fifty yards, but being heavily handicapped, two unladen dogs
passed him. The same trick was repeated by the Jack, and this time he
saved himself from instant death by a double loop and was now running
directly toward the crowd, followed by a dozen or more dogs. He was
losing speed, but likewise his pursuers were dropping off steadily. Only
the sturdy Eskimo dog held to his even gait, and behind him in the frail
travois leaned forward the little Matohinshda, nude save a breech clout,
his left hand holding fast the convenient tail of his dog, the right
grasping firmly one of the poles of the travois. His black eyes were
bulging almost out of their sockets; his long hair flowed out behind
like a stream of dark water.

The Jack now ran directly toward the howling spectators, but his
marvelous speed and alertness were on the wane; while on the other hand
his foremost pursuer, who had taken part in hundreds of similar events,
had every confidence in his own endurance. Each leap brought him nearer,
fiercer and more determined. The last effort of the Jack was to lose
himself in the crowd, like a fish in muddy water; but the big dog made
the one needed leap with unerring aim and his teeth flashed as he caught
the rabbit in viselike jaws and held him limp in air, a victor!

The people rushed up to him as he laid the victim down, and foremost
among them was the frantic mother of Matohinshda, or Gall. "Michinkshe!
michinkshe!" (My son! my son!) she screamed as she drew near. The boy
seemed to be none the worse for his experience. "Mother!" he cried, "my
dog is brave: he got the rabbit!" She snatched him off the travois,
but he struggled out of her arms to look upon his dog lovingly and
admiringly. Old men and boys crowded about the hero of the day, the dog,
and the thoughtful grandmother of Matohinshda unharnessed him and poured
some water from a parfleche water bag into a basin. "Here, my grandson,
give your friend something to drink."

"How, hechetu," pronounced an old warrior no longer in acti