154 THE STORY OP THE TRAPPER 



them, over the old hen went, flopping broken-winged 

 to decoy the trapper till her children could run for 

 shelter when lo! of a sudden, the broken wing is 

 mended and away she darts on both wings before he 

 has uncased his gun! There are the stories of bear 

 hunters like Ba tiste sitting on the other side of the 

 fire there, who have been caught in their own bear 

 traps and held till they died of starvation and their 

 bones bleached in the rusted steel. 



That story has such small relish for Ba tiste that 

 he hitches farther away from the others and lies back 

 flat on the ground close to the willow under-tangle 

 with his head on his hand. 



&quot; For sure,&quot; says Ba tiste contemptuously, &quot; no 

 body doesn t need no tree to climb here ! Sacre ! cry 

 wolf! wolf! and for sure! diable! de beeg loup- 

 garou will eat you yet ! &quot; 



Down somewhere from those stars overhead drops 

 a call silvery as a flute, clear as a piccolo some night 

 bird lilting like a mote on the far oceans of air. The 

 trappers look up with a movement that in other men 

 would be a nervous start; for any shrill cry pierces the 

 silence of the prairie in almost a stab. Then the men 

 go on with their yarn telling of how the Blackfeet 

 murdered some traders on this very ground not long 

 ago till the gloom gathering over willow thicket and 

 encircling cliffs seems peopled with those marauding 

 warriors. One man rises, saying that he is &quot; goin to 

 turn in &quot; and is taking a step through the dark to his 

 canoe when there is a dull pouncing thud. For an in 

 stant the trappers thought that their comrade had 

 stumbled over his boat. But a heavy groan a low 

 guttural cry a shout of &quot;Help help help Ba - 



