145 



Moktaques the rabbit. They followed stealth- 

 ily the winding records of a score of caribou 

 that had wandered like an eddying wind all T^ffSUfatGlOSS 

 over the barren, stopping here and there to /j$$r^f 

 paw great holes in the snow for the cari- 

 bou moss that covered all the earth beneath. 

 Out at the end of the trail two Indian chil- 

 dren, a girl and a boy, stole along with 

 noiseless steps, scanning the wide wastes 

 for a cloud of mist — the frozen breath that 

 hovers over a herd of caribou — or peering 

 keenly into the edges of the woods for vague 

 white shapes moving like shadows among 

 the trees. So they moved on swiftly, silently, 

 till the boy stopped with a startled exclama- 

 tion, whipped out a long arrow with a barbed 

 steel point, and laid it ready across his bow. 

 For at his feet was another light trail, the 

 trail of a wolf pack, that crossed his own, 

 moving straight and swift across the barren 

 toward the unseen caribou. 



Just in front, as the boy stopped, a slight 

 motion broke the even white surface that 

 stretched away silent and lifeless on every 

 side, — a motion so faint and natural that 



