a number of shapes and put aside for the future. The brains of the deer,
saved for the purpose, he boiled with water in his tin pail, wishing it
were larger. With the liquor thus obtained he intended later to remove
the hair and grain from the deer hide. Toward evening he caught a dozen
trout in the pool below the dam. These he ate for supper.

Next day he spread the buck's hide out on the ground and drenched it
liberally with the product of deer-brains. Later the hide was soaked in
the river, after which, by means of a rough two-handled spatula, Thorpe
was enabled after much labor to scrape away entirely the hair and grain.
He cut from the edge of the hide a number of long strips of raw-hide,
but anointed the body of the skin liberally with the brain liquor.

"Glad I don't have to do that every day!" he commented, wiping his brow
with the back of his wrist.

As the skin dried he worked and kneaded it to softness. The result was
a fair quality of white buckskin, the first Thorpe had ever made. If
wetted, it would harden dry and stiff. Thorough smoking in the fumes of
punk maple would obviate this, but that detail Thorpe left until later.

"I don't know whether it's all necessary," he said to himself
doubtfully, "but if you're going to assume a disguise, let it be a good
one."

In the meantime, he had bound together with his rawhide thongs several
of the oddly shaped pine timbers to form a species of dead-fall trap. It
was slow work, for Thorpe's knowledge of such things was theoretical. He
had learned his theory well, however, and in the end arrived.

All this time he had made no effort to look over the pine, nor did he
intend to begin until he could be sure of doing so in safety. His object
now was to give his knoll the appearances of a trapper's camp.

Towards the end of the week he received his first visit. Evening was
drawing on, and Thorpe was busily engaged in cooking a panful of trout,
resting the frying pan across the two green spruce logs between which
glowed the coals. Suddenly he became aware of a presence at his side.
How it had reached the spot he could not imagine, for he had heard no
approach. He looked up quickly.

"How do," greeted the newcomer gravely.

The man was an Indian, silent, solemn, with the straight, unwinking gaze
of his race.

"How do," replied Thorpe.

The Indian without further ceremony threw his pack to the ground, and,
squatting on his heels, watched the white man's prepar