The Last of the Plainsmen 



lery Lake. At dusk the clear, silent air opened to 

 the sound of a long, haunting mourn. 



&quot; Ho! Ho! &quot; called Rea. His hoarse, deep voice 

 rang defiance to the foe. 



While he built a fire before the tepee, Jones strode 

 up and down, suddenly to whip out his knife and 

 make for the tame little musk-oxen, now digging in 

 the snow. Then he wheeled abruptly and held out 

 the blade to Rea. 



&quot; What for? &quot; demanded the giant. 



&quot; We ve got to eat,&quot; said Jones. &quot; And I can t 

 kill one of them. I can t, so you do it.&quot; 



&quot; Kill one of our calves? &quot; roared Rea. &quot; Not till 

 hell freezes over ! I ain t commenced to get hungry. 

 Besides, the wolves are going to eat us, calves and 

 all.&quot; 



Nothing more was said. They ate their last bis 

 cuit. Jones packed the calves away in the tepee, 

 and turned to the dogs. All day they had worried 

 him; something was amiss with them, and even as 

 he went among them a fierce fight broke out. Jones 

 saw it was unusual, for the attacked dogs showed 

 craven fear, and the attacking ones a howling, savage 

 intensity that surprised him. Then one of the vicious 

 brutes rolled his eyes, frothed at the mouth, shud 

 dered and leaped in his harness, vented a hoarse 

 howl and fell back shaking and retching. 



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