282 THE FUR TRADE OF AMERICA 



the printings on the white page that the still hunter had been 

 hunted full cry by coyote or timber-wolf. Against these wolfish 

 foes the cat had one sure refuge always — a tree. The hungry 

 coyote might try to starve the bob-cat into surrender; but just as 

 often, the lynx could starve the coyote into retreat ; for if a foolish 

 rabbit darted past, what hungry coyote could help giving chase ? 

 The tree had even defeated both dog and man that first week when 

 Koot could not find the cat. But a dog in full chase could follow 

 the trail to a tree, and a man could shoot into the tree. 



As the rabbits decreased, Koot set out many traps for the lynx 

 now reckless with hunger, steel traps and deadfalls and pits and log 

 pens with a live grouse clucking inside. The midwinter lull was a 

 busy season for Koot. 



Towards March, the sun-glare has produced a crust on the snow 

 that is almost like glass. For Koot on his snow-shoes this had no 

 danger ; but for the mongrel that was to draw the pelts back to 

 the fort, the snow crust was more troublesome than glass. Where 

 the crust was thick, with Koot leading the way snow-shoes and dog 

 and toboggan glided over the drifts as if on steel runners. But 

 in midday the crust was soft and the dog went floundering through as 

 if on thin ice, the sharp edge cutting his feet. Koot tied little buck- 

 skin sacks round the dog's feet and made a few more rounds of the 

 swamp ; but the crust was a sign that warned him it was time to 

 prepare for the marten-hunt. To leave his furs at the fort, he 

 must cross the prairie while it was yet good travelling for the dog. 

 Dismantling the little cabin, Koot packed the pelts on the toboggan, 

 roped all tightly so there could be no spill from an upset, and putting 

 the mongrel in the traces, led the way for the fort one night when the 

 snow-crust was hard as ice. 



The moon came up over the white fields in a great silver disc. 

 Between the running man and the silver moon moved black skulking 

 forms — the foragers on their night hunt. Sometimes a fox loped 

 over a drift, or a coyote rose ghostly from the snow, or timber- 



