THE OTTER SLIDE in 



log-path when they re coming home, or Fran9ois 

 will hole us up one of these fine days.&quot; 



&quot; I have told them, Son ; your two Brothers 

 were cross-hatching the trail all yesterday after 

 noon. There are three blind holes within five 

 miles up the stream, and to each one they have 

 made a nice little false trail to amuse this Stealer 

 of Skins.&quot; 



&quot; That s all right, Mother ; we can t be too 

 careful.&quot; 



He stretched each hind-leg far out, throwing 

 his head high to loosen the neck-muscles and 

 expand his chest, shook the folds of his heavy, 

 black cloak and yawned again. Then stooping 

 low in the cave-mouth, with a powerful spring 

 he alighted upon a log which crossed from one 

 cut-bank to another of the stream. Umisk was 

 whistling a quarter of a mile away down the left 

 bank, but Black Fox started off up the right. 

 As he trotted along he sang : 



tf The trail that leads from nowhere to nowhere, 

 Is the track of the King of the Tribe of Beware.&quot; 



Suddenly he stopped, crept under a big log, 

 and then emerged, tail first, backing up cau 

 tiously and putting his feet down carefully in 

 the tracks he had made. &quot; They 11 find me 

 asleep in there,&quot; he chuckled ; and hummed, 

 softly : 





