ack as he ran. By the
time the youth reached his quarry the old Indian had produced a large
whisky flask holding about a quart. Without explanation he now proceeded
to thrust his knife into the quivering animal's throat and fill this
flask with blood. When he had finished his task he held it up with an
air of unbounded satisfaction.

"Blood for wolf. Heem like blood. Smell um--come make big shoot
to-night. No blood, no bait--no wolf shoot!"

Mukoki no longer maintained his usual quiet, and it was evident to Rod
that the Indian considered his mission for that day practically
accomplished. After taking the heart, liver and one of the hind quarters
of the buck Mukoki drew a long rope of babeesh from his pack, tied one
end of it around the animal's neck, flung the other end over a near
limb, and with his companion's assistance hoisted the carcass until it
was clear of the ground.

"If somethin' happen we no come back to-night heem safe from wolf," he
explained.

The two now continued through the swamp. At its farther edge the ground
rose gently from the creek toward the hills, and this sloping plain was
covered with huge boulders and a thin growth of large spruce and birch.
Just beyond the creek was a gigantic rock which immediately caught
Mukoki's attention. All sides except one were too precipitous for
ascent, and even this one could not be climbed without the assistance of
a sapling or two. They could see, however, that the top of the, rock was
flat, and Mukoki called attention to this fact with an exultant chuckle.

"Fine place for wolf hunt!" he exclaimed. "Many wolf off there in swamp
an' in hill. We call heem here. Shoot from there!" He pointed to a clump
of spruce a dozen rods away.

By Rod's watch it was now nearly noon and the two sat down to eat the
sandwiches they had brought with them. Only a few minutes were lost in
taking up the home trail. Beyond the swamp Mukoki cut at right angles to
their trap-line until he had ascended to the top of the ridge that had
been on their right and which would take them very near their camp. From
this ridge Rod could look about him upon a wild and rugged scene. On one
side it sloped down to the plains, but on the other it fell in almost
sheer walls, forming at its base five hundred feet below a narrow and
gloomy chasm, through which a small stream found its way. Several times
Mukoki stopped and leaned perilously close to the dizzy edge of the
mountain, peering down with