The Land of the Musk-Ox 



kled chief, who repulsed him, and turned his back. 

 With a growl, the trapper spun the Indian round, 

 and spoke as many words of the language as he knew. 

 He got a cold response, which ended in the ragged 

 old chief starting up, stretching a long, dark arm 

 northward, and with eyes fixed in fanatical subjection, 

 shouting: &quot; Naza ! Naza ! Naza! &quot; 



&quot; Heathen ! &quot; Rea shook his gun in the faces of 

 the messengers. u It ll go bad with you to come 

 Nazain any longer on our trail. Come, Buff, clear 

 out before I get mad.&quot; 



When they were once more in the cabin, Rea told 

 Jones that the messengers had been sent to warn the 

 Yellow Knives not to aid the white hunters in any 

 way. That night the dogs were kept inside, and the 

 men took turns in watching. Morning showed a 

 broad trail southward. And with the going of the 

 Yellow Knives the mercury dropped to fifty, and the 

 long, twilight winter night fell. 



So with this agreeable riddance and plenty of meat 

 and fuel to cheer them, the hunters sat down in their 

 snug cabin to wait many months for daylight. 



Those few intervals when the wind did not blow 

 were the only times Rea and Jones got out of doors. 

 To the plainsman, new to the north, the dim gray 

 world about him was of exceeding interest. Out of 

 the twilight shone a wan, round, lusterless ring that 



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