outer sombreness of the silent forest. It
was Oo-koo-hoo. His form clad in fox-skin cap, blanket _capote_, and
leggings, made a picturesque silhouette of lighter tone against the
darker shadows of the woods as he stood for a moment scanning the
starry sky. Reentering the lodge, he partook of the breakfast his wife
had cooked for him, then he kissed her and went outside. Going to the
stage, he took down his five-foot snowshoes, slipped his moccasined
feet into the thongs, and with his gun resting in the hollow of his
bemittened hand, and the sled's hauling-line over his shoulder, strode
off through the vaulted aisles between the boles of the evergreens;
while through a tiny slit in the wall of his moose-skin home two loving
eyes watched the stalwart figure vanishing among the trees.

[Illustration: Going to the stage, he took down his five-foot
snowshoes, slipped his moccasined feet info the thongs, and with his
gun resting in the hollow of his bemittened hand, and the sled's
hauling-line over his shoulder, strode off through the vaulted aisles
between the boles of evergreens; while through a tiny slit in the wall
of his moose-skin home two loving eyes watched his stalwart figure
vanishing among the . . . See Chapter IV.]

Later on, though the sun was already shining, it was still intensely
cold. As we went along, Oo-koo-hoo's breath rose like a cloud of white
smoke fifteen or twenty feet in the air before it disappeared. Only
the faintest whisper of scuffling snowshoes and scrunching snow could
be heard; the sound of the occasional snapping of a twig came as a
startling report compared with the almost noiseless tread of the
hunter. A little cloud of powdery snow rose above the dragging heels
of his snowshoes, and, whirling about, covered the back of his leggings
with a coating of white. Onward he strode, twisting through the
tangled scrub, stooping under a fallen tree, stepping over a
snow-capped log, or pacing along a winter-locked stream.

When Oo-koo-hoo came to a district overgrown with willows interspersed
with poplars, he stopped to examine a snare set for lynx. It had not
been disturbed, but a little farther on we saw the form of a dead lynx
hanging from a tossing-pole above the trail. The carcass was frozen
stiff, and the face still showed the ghastly expression it had worn in
its death struggle. The rigid body was taken down and lashed to the
sled. Resetting the snare, we continued our way. Far