s life. He had killed a wolf at close quarters! It was an
achievement to be proud of, and what normal boy or man would not have
been proud of it?

This was the first pelt that Charley had ever secured by his own effort,
and when they reached home he insisted upon stretching it himself, with
a word or two of advice from Toby. Then, with a sheathknife, and with
much pride, he scraped it free from every particle of clinging flesh and
fat.

None of the dogs, as an examination disclosed, was seriously injured,
though Tucker and Traps had suffered severe lacerations from the wolf
fangs, and these two were relieved from team work for several days.

During the week following the adventure with the wolves, good fortune
smiled upon the young hunters. More martens were captured, increasing
the number of marten pelts to nine, and Toby shot an otter.

But the crowning event of the winter, and, Toby was sure, the big event
of his life, came two days after the fox traps had been removed from the
marsh to the barrens, when Toby found in one of them a silver fox. They
all declared, as did Long Tom Ham, who came over from Lucky Bight to see
the pelt, that it was the blackest, thickest and longest furred, and
glossiest silver fox they had ever seen.

"'Tis rare fine fur," said Mrs. Twig, shaking out the pelt and holding
it up to admire it when it was finally dry and Toby had removed it from
the board that it might be packed carefully and safely away in one of
the chests.

"Aye," boasted Toby, "'tis that. 'Twill be worth five hundred dollars at
the post, or four hundred _what_ever."

"Now we'll not have to skimp so with things," said Mrs. Twig happily.
"The silver'll get us a wonderful lot o' things we needs, and 'twill pay
the debt at the post."

"We has the marten skins, too," said Toby. "They's worth at the post
thirty dollars apiece, good martens like they. Skipper Tom Ham says that
be the price this year for good black martens, and all we has is black.
I'm thinkin' the otter'll be bringin' fifty dollars whatever. 'Tis a
wonderful fine skin o' fur."

"You and Charley were wonderful lucky gettin' fur," said Mrs. Twig in
praise.

In another ten days Skipper Zeb would come home from his trapping
grounds to bring the pelts he had captured, and to take back with him,
after a fortnight's rest, a fresh supply of provisions.

Skipper Zeb's mid-winter return was always an occasion for great
rejoicing, but this winter it would have