ut of La Biche River that A'tim,
perfectly mad with hunger, made a vicious snap at the Bull's leg,
just above the hock, meaning to hamstring him. Shag flipped about
and faced the Dog Wolf.

"What is this, A'tim?" he demanded, lowering his horns and
stamping in vexed restlessness.

"A big fly of the Bull-Dog kind. I snapped at him, and in my
eagerness grazed your leg."

Shag tossed his huge head unbelievingly, and snorted through his
dilated nostrils. "There are no Bull-Dogs now, A'tim; they were
killed off days since by the white-striped Hornets."

"There was one, Shag--at least I thought so, Great Bull."

"Well, don't think again--just that way. Once bitten is twice shy
with me; and, as you see, I carry the Tribe mark of your
Wolf-kind in my thigh since the time I was a Calf."

"Ghur-r-r! Of the Wolf-kind, quite true, Great Bull--that is
their way; but I, who am no Wolf, but a Dog, do not seek to
hamstring my friends."

The Bull answered nothing, but as they journeyed watched his
companion carefully.

"Dreadfully foolish!" mused A'tim. "I must coax this stupid Bull
into a muskeg; his big carcass will keep me alive through all the
Cold Time."

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER FIVE

They were now well within the treacherous muskeg lands which
border the Athabasca; and that very night, while Shag slumbered
in the deep sleep of a full age, A'tim, whose lean stomach tugged
at his eyelids and kept them open, stole off into the forest, and
searched by the strong light of the moon for a bog that would
mire his comrade to death.

An open piece of swamp land, fringed by tamarack and slim-bodied
spruce, promised fair for his scheme. Back and forth, back and
forth over its cushion of deep moss he passed, seeking for a
treacherous place--a place wherein Shag would sink to the belly;
where the sand-mud would grasp his legs like soft chains and hold
him to his death, but not engulf the body--that must remain for
A'tim's eating.

"Euh-h! the very thing!" he exclaimed joyously, as his foot sank
deep in soft slime. "Yes, indeed, the very spot. Now must I cover
up its black mud so that the blurred eyes of old Shag will see
only a fair trail, not over ankle-deep."

For an hour he labored with rare villainy, carrying bunches of
moss to cover up the black ooze, that was not more than twenty
feet broad; even small willow wands and coarse rush grass he
placed under the moss, so that he himself, light-foo