82 MOOSWA 



breed/ ugh! he knew that it was the Man- 

 smell. &quot; But stop ! What? &quot; A something out 

 of the long ago crept into his sensitive nostrils 

 and touched his memory. Surely once it had 

 been familiar. 



The Boy crossed directly in the wind s path, 

 and Mooswa got it stronger. Then he knew. 

 His big eyes glistened softly, eagerly ; it was the 

 scent of the Lad he had played with in his 

 youth. 



&quot; Comrades,&quot; he gurgled, for something was in 

 his throat, &quot; have I not told you of the Boy who 

 was the Factor s Young ? &quot; 



&quot;Whenever you got a chance!&quot; snapped 

 Whisky-Jack. 



Mooswa sighed wearily. Jack s frivolity was 

 tiring to his sedate mind. 



&quot; Well, that s my Boy there. I d like to 

 rub my nose against his rose-flowered cheek.&quot; 



&quot; While Franois tickled your lean ribs with 

 the Firestick ! &quot; jeered the Bird. 



&quot;Bring a pot of water,&quot; said Fra^ois to his 

 comrade, &quot; while I cut up the fish.&quot; 



&quot; Great Suckers ! &quot; exclaimed Nekik ; &quot; Fish ! 

 and a beauty, too. It s a Tulabie. I know 

 them; they re first cousin to White-fish. These 

 men have fine taste a fish diet makes one 

 clever/ 





