e to-night. Maka, the daughter of Owits,
the Wolf-Runner--"

The recital ran through the names of a dozen maidens, and then the three
heralds tottered on their way to make announcement at the next fires.

The bachelors, who had sworn youthful oaths to speak to no maidens, were
uninterested in the approaching ceremony, and to show their disdain they
made preparations for immediate departure on a mission set them by Snass
and upon which they had planned to start the following morning. Not
satisfied with the old hunters' estimates of the caribou, Snass had
decided that the run was split. The task set the bachelors was to scout
to the north and west in quest of the second division of the great herd.

Smoke, troubled by Labiskwee's fire-lighting, announced that he would
accompany the bachelors. But first he talked with Shorty and with McCan.

"You be there on the third day, Smoke," Shorty said. "We'll have the
outfit an' the dogs."

"But remember," Smoke cautioned, "if there is any slip-up in meeting me,
you keep on going and get out to the Yukon. That's flat. If you make it,
you can come back for me in the summer. If I get the chance, I'll make
it, and come back for you."

McCan, standing by his fire, indicated with his eyes a rugged mountain
where the high western range out-jutted on the open country.

"That's the one," he said. "A small stream on the south side. We go
up it. On the third day you meet us. We'll pass by on the third day.
Anywhere you tap that stream you'll meet us or our trail."

But the chance did not come to Smoke on the third day. The bachelors had
changed the direction of their scout, and while Shorty and McCan plodded
up the stream with their dogs, Smoke and the bachelors were sixty
miles to the northeast picking up the trail of the second caribou herd.
Several days later, through a dim twilight of falling snow, they came
back to the big camp. A squaw ceased from wailing by a fire and darted
up to Smoke. Harsh tongued, with bitter, venomous eyes, she cursed him,
waving her arms toward a silent, fur-wrapped form that still lay on the
sled which had hauled it in.

What had happened, Smoke could only guess, and as he came to McCan's
fire he was prepared for a second cursing. Instead, he saw McCan himself
industriously chewing a strip of caribou meat.

"I'm not a fightin' man," he whiningly explained. "But Shorty got away,
though they're still after him. He put up a hell of a fight. They'll get