stricken animal's throat, Connie examined the wound that had brought him
down. Leloo had returned to his kill, and as the boy glanced up the
great wolf-dog opened his mouth in a prodigious yawn that exposed his
gleaming fangs, and instantly the boy remembered the words of Waseche
Bill, "Keep your eye on him ... if he ever turns wolf when he'd ort to
be dog ... good-night." "It would be 'good-night,' all right," he
muttered, as he turned again to look at the wound--a long slash that had
cut through the thick hide, the underlying muscles, and the inner
abdominal wall and literally disembowelled the animal as cleanly as
though it had been done with a powerful stroke of a sharp knife.

"W'at you t'ink 'bout Leloo, now?" grinned the Indian, as he rose from
his knee and wiped his bloody knife upon his larrigan.

"I think he's some killer!" exclaimed the boy. "No wonder you don't
carry a rifle."

"Don't need no gun w'en we got Leloo," answered 'Merican Joe, proudly.
"De gun too mooch heavy. Injun ain' so good shot lak de w'ite man. Waste
too mooch shell--dat cost too mooch."

The butchering and cutting up of the two caribou took less than an hour,
during which time 'Merican Joe found that no matter how much of a
_chechako_ Connie was in regard to the fur-bearers, he had had plenty of
experience in the handling of meat. When the job was finished, the meat
was covered with the hides, and taking only the livers and hearts with
them, the two started for the toboggans. The low-banked, marshy river
upon which they found themselves made a short turn to the northward a
short distance farther on, and they decided to circle around far enough
to see what lay beyond the wooded point. Rounding the bend, they came
upon what was evidently a sluggish lake, or broadening of the river,
its white surface extending for a distance of two or three miles toward
the north. Far beyond the upper end of the lake they could make out
another ridge of hills, similar to the one to the southward toward which
they were heading. They were about to turn back when Connie pointed to
Leloo who was sniffing the air with evident interest. "He smells
something!" exclaimed the boy, "maybe there are some more caribou in the
willows a little farther on."

The Indian watched the dog narrowly: "Noe he ain' git de body scent--dat
de trail scent. Mus' be de strong scent. He smell um down wind. We go
tak' a look--mebbe-so we git som' mor' meat."

Keeping close to sho