waste* Where were the charms 

 that he had never failed to find until 

 now? He wanted to recall the 

 sleigh, but pride kept him silent* 



In a little while it was too late* 

 and soon he was once more in the 

 power of that fascinating, endless 

 chain of tracks, a chain begun 

 years ago, when in a June the track 

 of a mother Blacktail was suddenly 

 joined by two little ones' tracks* 

 Since then the three had gone on 

 winding over the land the trail-chains 

 they were forging, knotted and 

 kinked, and twisted with every move 

 and thought of the makers, imprinted 

 with every hap of their lives, but 

 interrupted never wholly* At times 

 the tracks were joined by that of 

 69 



