d
to him. Among other things he said, "This'll put the black flies to
sleep, Kazan. A day or two more of it and we'll start."

Five days later McGill led first the Dane, and then Kazan, to a packed
canoe. Sandy McTrigger saw them off, and Kazan watched for a chance to
leap at him. Sandy kept his distance, and McGill watched the two with a
thought that set the blood running swiftly behind the mask of his
careless smile. They had slipped a mile down-stream when he leaned over
and laid a fearless hand on Kazan's head. Something in the touch of that
hand, and in the professor's voice, kept Kazan from a desire to snap at
him. He tolerated the friendship with expressionless eyes and a
motionless body.

"I was beginning to fear I wouldn't have much sleep, old boy," chuckled
McGill ambiguously, "but I guess I can take a nap now and then with
_you_ along!"

He made camp that night fifteen miles up the lake shore. The big Dane he
fastened to a sapling twenty yards from his small silk tent, but Kazan's
chain he made fast to the butt of a stunted birch that held down the
tent-flap. Before he went into the tent for the night McGill pulled out
his automatic and examined it with care.

For three days the journey continued without a mishap along the shore of
Lake Athabasca. On the fourth night McGill pitched his tent in a clump
of _banskian_ pine a hundred yards back from the water. All that day the
wind had come steadily from behind them, and for at least a half of the
day the professor had been watching Kazan closely. From the west there
had now and then come a scent that stirred him uneasily. Since noon he
had sniffed that wind. Twice McGill had heard him growling deep in his
throat, and once, when the scent had come stronger than usual, he had
bared his fangs, and the bristles stood up along his spine. For an hour
after striking camp the little professor did not build a fire, but sat
looking up the shore of the lake through his hunting glass. It was dusk
when he returned to where he had put up his tent and chained the dogs.
For a few moments he stood unobserved, looking at the wolf-dog. Kazan
was still uneasy. He lay _facing_ the west. McGill made note of this,
for the big Dane lay behind Kazan--to the east. Under ordinary
conditions Kazan would have faced him. He was sure now that there was
something in the west wind. A little shiver ran up his back as he
thought of what it might be.

Behind a rock he built a very small fire