ess until the sound died away,
then with a glance at the _babiche_ thong that secured him, settled
slowly to the robe and lay with his long pointed muzzle upon his
outstretched forepaws, and his dull yellow eyes blinking lazily.

Early the following morning they skirted the south shore of Lake Ste.
Therese, crossed the river, and headed for a range of hills that could
be seen to the south-eastward. The day was warm, ten to fifteen degrees
above zero, and the gusty south-east wind was freighted with frequent
snow squalls. Toward noon, as they were crossing a frozen muskeg,
Connie, who was in the lead, stopped to examine some fresh caribou
tracks that led toward the timber of the opposite side in a course
nearly parallel with their own. 'Merican Joe halted his team and came
forward. Leloo nosed the tracks and, with no more show of interest than
a slight twitching of the ears, raised his head and eyed first 'Merican
Joe, then Connie. The trail was very fresh and the scent strong so that
the other dogs sniffed the air and whined and whimpered in nervous
eagerness. The trail was no surprise to Leloo. So keen was his sense of
scent that for a quarter of a mile he had known that they were nearing
it. Had he been alone, or running at the head of the hunt-pack, he would
even now have been wolfing down huge mouthfuls of the warm,
blood-dripping meat. But this case was different. At this moment he was
a dog, and not a wolf. His work was the work of the harness. Leloo's
yellow eyes scrutinized the faces of his two masters as they talked, for
he had been quick to recognize Connie as his new master, although he
never quite renounced allegiance to the Indian. He obeyed alike the
command of either, and both were too wise in the way of dogs to try him
out with conflicting commands just to see "which he would mind."

Leloo knew that his masters would do one of two things. Either they
would follow the caribou and kill them, or they would ignore the trail
and hold their own course. He hoped they would decide to follow the
caribou. For two or three days he had been living on fish, and Leloo did
not like fish and only ate them when there was nothing else to eat. He
watched 'Merican Joe return to his dogs, and fairly leaped into the
collar as Connie swung him on to the trail. Two bull caribou had gone
that way scarcely an hour before. There would be a kill, and plenty of
meat.

A quarter of a mile before reaching the timber, Connie, who was