The Last of the Plainsmen 



skins some day,&quot; he said gruffly. The expanse of his 

 chest heaved slightly, like the slow swell of a calm 

 ocean, but there was no other indication of unusual 

 exertion. 



Jones laughed, and again gave thanks for the 

 comradeship of this strange man. 



Shortly afterward, he went out for wood, and as 

 usual scanned the expanse of the lake. The sun shone 

 mistier and wanner, and frost feathers floated in the 

 air. Sky and sun and plain and lake all were gray. 

 Jones fancied he saw a distant moving mass of darker 

 shade than the gray background. He called the 

 trapper. 



&quot; Caribou,&quot; said Rea instantly. &quot; The vanguard 

 of the migration. Hear the Indians! Hear their 

 cry : * Aton ! Aton ! they mean reindeer. The 

 idiots have scared the herd with their infernal racket, 

 an no meat will they get. The caribou will keep to 

 the ice, an man or Indian can t stalk them there.&quot; 



For a few moments his companion surveyed the 

 lake and shore with a plainsman s eye, then dashed 

 within, to reappear with a Winchester in each hand. 

 Through the crowd of bewailing, bemoaning Indians 

 he sped, to the low, dying bank. The hard crust 

 of snow upheld him. The gray cloud was a thou 

 sand yards out upon the lake and moving southeast. 

 If the caribou did not swerve from this course they 



160 



