THE VALUE OF THEIR FUR 39 



&quot; Did n t stop to thank the Man, eh, old 

 Pretty Legs ? &quot; questioned Jack, ironically. 



&quot; There was a treacherous crust on the snow; 

 sometimes it would bear me up, and sometimes 

 I would go through up to my chest, for it was 

 deep. Grasshead wore those big shoes that 

 Muskwa speaks of, and glided along the top ; 

 but my feet are small and hard, you know, and 

 cut the crust.&quot; 



&quot; See ! &quot; piped Jay, &quot; there s where pride comes 

 in. All of you horned creatures are so proud of 

 your little feet, and unless the ground is hard you 

 soon get done up.&quot; 



&quot; Well,&quot; continued Mooswa, &quot; sometimes I d 

 draw away many miles from the Indian. Once I 

 circled wide, went back close to my trail, laid 

 down in a thicket, and watched for him. He 

 passed quite close, trailing along easily on top of 

 the snow, chewing a piece of dried moose-meat 

 think of that, Brothers ! stuck in his loose shirt was 

 dried-meat, cut from the bodies of some of my 

 relatives ; even the shirt itself was made from one 

 of their hides. His little eyes were vicious and 

 cruel ; and several times I heard him give the 

 call of our wives, which is, c Wh-e-a-u-h-h-h ! 

 That was that I might come back, thinking it 

 was one of my tribe calling. All day he trailed 

 me that way, and twice I rested as I speak of. 



