d him and
said in tones that brooked no discussion, "Sit down!"

Hoag did so, sullenly, then growled: "All right; my partners will be
here in ten minutes."

Rolf was startled. Quonab and Skookum were not.

"We settled your partners up in the hills," said the former, knowing
that one bluff was as good as another. Skookum growled and sniffed at
the enemy's legs. The prisoner made a quick move with his foot.

"You kick that dog again and it's your last kick," said the Indian.

"Who's kicked yer dog, and what do you mean coming here with yer
cutthroat ways? You'll find there's law in this country before yer
through," was the answer.

"That's what we're looking for, you trap robber, you thief. We're here
first to find our traps; second to tell you this: the next time you come
on our line there'll be meat for the ravens. Do you suppose I don't
know them?" and the Indian pointed to a large pair of snowshoes with long
heels and a repair lashing on the right frame. "See that blue yarn," and
the Indian matched it with a blue sash hanging to a peg.

"Yes, them belongs to Bill Hawkins; he'll be 'round in five minutes
now."

The Indian made a gesture of scorn; then turning to Rolf said: "look
'round for our traps." Rolf made a thorough search in and about the
shanty and the adjoining shed. He found some traps but none with his
mark; none of a familiar make even.

"Better hunt for a squaw and papoose," sneered Hoag, who was utterly
puzzled by the fact that now Rolf was obviously a white lad.

But all the search was vain. Either Hoag had not stolen the traps or had
hidden them elsewhere. The only large traps they found were two of the
largest size for taking bear.

Hoag's torrent of bad language had been quickly checked by the threat of
turning Skookum loose on his legs, and he looked such a grovelling beast
that presently the visitors decided to leave him with a warning.

The Indian took the trapper's gun, fired it off out of doors, not in
the least perturbed by the possibility of its being heard by Hoag's
partners. He knew they were imaginary. Then changing his plan, he said
"Ugh! You find your gun in half a mile on our trail. But don't come
farther and don't let me see the snowshoe trail on the divide again.
Them ravens is awful hungry."

Skookum, to his disappointment, was called off and, talking the
trapper's gun for a time, they left it in a bush and made for their own
country.

Chapter 42. Skookum's Panthe