ar. Rolf and
Quonab felt that now it was war.

Chapter 37. The Pekan or Fisher

There was one large track in the snow that they saw several times--it
was like that of a marten, but much larger. "Pekan," said the Indian,
"the big marten; the very strong one, that fights without fear."

"When my father was a papoose he shot an arrow at a pekan. He did not
know what it was; it seemed only a big black marten. It was wounded, but
sprang from the tree on my father's breast. It would have killed him,
but for the dog; then it would have killed the dog, but my grandfather
was near.

"He made my father eat the pekan's heart, so his heart might be like it.
It sought no fight, but it turned, when struck, and fought without fear.
That is the right way; seek peace, but fight without fear. That was my
father's heart and mine." Then glancing toward the west he continued in
a tone of menace: "That trap robber will find it so. We sought no fight,
but some day I kill him."

The big track went in bounds, to be lost in a low, thick woods. But they
met it again.

They were crossing a hemlock ridge a mile farther on, when they came to
another track which was first a long, deep furrow, some fifteen inches
wide, and in this were the wide-spread prints of feet as large as those
of a fisher.

"Kahk," said Quonab, and Skookum said "Kahk," too, but he did it
by growling and raising his back hair, and doubtless also by sadly
remembering. His discretion seemed as yet embryonic, so Rolf slipped
his sash through the dog's collar, and they followed the track, for the
porcupine now stood in Rolf's mind as a sort of embroidery outfit.

They had not followed far before another track joined on--the track
of the fisher-pekan; and soon after they heard in the woods ahead
scratching sounds, as of something climbing, and once or twice a faint,
far, fighting snarl.

Quickly tying the over-valiant Skookum to a tree, they crept forward,
ready for anything, and arrived on the scene of a very peculiar action.

Action it was, though it was singularly devoid of action. First, there
was a creature, like a huge black marten or a short-legged black fox,
standing at a safe distance, while, partly hidden under a log, with hind
quarters and tail only exposed, was a large porcupine. Both were
very still, but soon the fisher snarled and made a forward lunge. The
porcupine, hearing the sounds or feeling the snow dash up on that side,
struck with its tail; but