THE INDIAN TRAPPER 129 



With long snow-shoes, that carry him over the drifts 

 in swift, coasting strides, he swings out in that easy, 

 ambling, Indian trot, which gives never a jar to the 

 runner, nor rests long enough for the snows to crunch 

 beneath his tread. 



The old musket, which he got in trade from the 

 fur post, is over his shoulder, or swinging lightly in 

 one hand. A hunter s knife and short-handled wood 

 man s axe hang through the beaded scarf, belting in 

 his loose, caribou capote. Powder-horn and heavy 

 musk-rat gantlets are attached to the cord about his 

 neck ; so without losing either he can fight bare-handed, 

 free and in motion, at a moment s notice. And some 

 where, in side pockets or hanging down his back, is his 

 skipertogan a skin bag with amulet against evil, 

 matches, touchwood, and a scrap of pemmican. As he 

 grows hot, he throws back his hood, running bare 

 headed and loose about the chest. 



Each breath clouds to frost against his face till 

 hair and brows and lashes are fringed with frozen 

 moisture. The white man would hugger his face up 

 with scarf and collar the more for this; but the 

 Indian knows better. Suddenly chilled breath would 

 soak scarf and collar wet to his skin; and his face 

 would be frozen before he could go five paces. But 

 with dry skin and quickened blood, he can defy the 

 keenest cold ; so he loosens his coat and runs the faster. 



As the light grows, dim forms shape themselves in 

 the gray haze. Pine groves emerge from the dark, 

 wreathed and festooned in snow. Cones and domes 

 and cornices of snow heap the underbrush and spread 

 ing larch boughs. Evergreens are edged with white. 

 Naked trees stand like limned statuary with an ant- 

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