152 MOOSWA 



The Forest was like a graveyard as silent ; no 

 hidden enemy lurked near with ready Firestick 

 his nose assured him on that point. 



Then he walked gingerly in a big circle all 

 about the glamourous centre-piece of sweet-smell 

 ing meat, his nose prospecting every inch of the 

 ground. Something had evidently disturbed the 

 snow where Fran9ois had smoothed it down. 

 Three circles he completed like this ; each one 

 smaller and closer to the Bait. Three lengths 

 of himself from the covered-danger he sat down 

 again, and tried to think it out. 



&quot; It can t be a Trap,&quot; he mused ; &quot; nothing 

 has walked where the eating is, that much is cer 

 tain. Fran9ois can smooth the white ground- 

 cover down, but can t put a crust on it. 

 Starvation Year! but that Meat smells good 

 I have n t eaten for two days. I wish it were a 

 Trap then I should know what I was about. 

 It looks mighty suspicious must be the White 

 Powder; think I had better leave it alone. If 

 there were only a Trap in sight I would tackle it 

 quick enough ; it s easy to spring one of those 

 things and get the Bait.&quot; 



He trotted away twenty yards, meaning to go 

 home and not risk it. Suddenly he stopped, 

 sat down once more and thought it all over 

 again, his determination weakened by appetite. 



