the night--one Indian in particular, who spoke a few
words of English and appeared to be rather better dressed than the
others, was very insistent, pointing with evident pride toward the
largest of the log houses. But they declined with thanks, and indicated
that they would camp a short distance below the village where a more
gently sloping bank gave promise of ascent for the heavily loaded
toboggans. As they proceeded along the foot of the bank, an Indian
lurched from one of the skin dwellings, and leered foolishly at them
from the top of the bank. Sounds issued from the shack as of voices
raised in quarrel, and Connie and 'Merican Joe exchanged glances as they
passed on to their camping place.

An hour later as they were finishing their supper, an Indian stepped
abruptly out of the darkness, and stood blinking at them just within the
circle of light from the little fire. He was the Indian they had seen
lurch from the dwelling.

"Hello," said Connie, "what do you want?" The Indian continued to stare,
and Connie tried jargon. "_Iktah mika tika?_" But still the man did not
answer so the boy turned him over to 'Merican Joe who tried out several
dialects and gave it up. The Indian disappeared as abruptly as he had
come, and a few moments later stepped again into the firelight. This
time he carried a large beaver skin which he extended for inspection.
Connie passed it over to 'Merican Joe.

"Is it a good skin?" he asked.

"Good skin," assented 'Merican Joe, "Wan' ver' big beaver ..."

"How much?" asked Connie, making signs to indicate a trade.

The Indian grunted a single word. "_Hooch!_"

"Oh--ho, so that's it!" cried the boy. "I knew it when I saw him the
first time. And I knew that trail we've been following this afternoon
didn't look right. I had a hunch!"

He handed the Indian his skin and shook his head. "No got _hooch_." It
took the man several minutes to realize that there was no liquor
forthcoming, and when he did, he turned and left the fire with every
evidence of anger. Not long after he had gone, another Indian appeared
with the same demand. In vain Connie tried to question him, but
apparently he knew no more English or jargon than the first.

"We've got to figure out some scheme to gum that dirty pup's game!"
cried the boy. "I just wish I was back in the Mounted for about a week!
I'd sure make that bird live hard! But in the Mounted or out of it, I'm
going to make him quit his whiskey peddling, or som