of camp sat the
wolf-dogs, their yellow eyes gleaming, waiting in patience for their
tardy share.

After the meal the women drew apart. Dick's eyes roved in vain, seeking
a glimpse of the Ojibway girl. He was too familiar with Indian
etiquette to make an advance, and in fact his interest was but
languidly aroused.

The men sat about the larger fire smoking. It was the hour of
relaxation. In the blaze their handsome or strong-lined brown faces
lighted good-humouredly. They talked and laughed in low tones, the long
syllables of their language lisping and hissing in strange analogy to
the noises of the fire or the forest or the rapids or some other natural
thing. Their speech was of the chances of the woods and the approaching
visit to their Ojibway brothers in the south. For this they had brought
their grand ceremonial robes of deerskin, now stowed securely in bags.
The white men were silent. In a little while the pipes were finished.
The camp was asleep. Through the ashes and the embers prowled the
wolf-dogs, but half-fed, seeking scraps. Soon they took to the beach in
search of cast-up fish. There they wandered all night long under the
moon voicing their immemorial wrongs to the silenced forest.

Almost at first streak of dawn the women were abroad. Shortly after, the
men visited their traps and lifted the nets. In this land and season of
plenty the catch had been good. The snares had strangled three hares;
the steel traps had caught five muskrats, which are very good eating in
spite of their appearance; the net had intercepted a number of pickerel,
suckers, and river whitefish. This, with the meat of the caribou, shot
by Three Fingers the day before, and the supplies brought from the Post,
made ample provision.

Nevertheless, when the camp had been struck and the canoes loaded, the
order of march was reversed. Now the men took the lead by a good margin,
and the women and children followed. For in the wooded country game
drinks early.

Before setting out, however, old Haukemah blazed a fair clean place on a
fir-tree, and with hard charcoal from the fire marked on it these
characters:

[Illustration: random characters]

"Can you read Injun writin'?" asked Dick. "I can't."

"Yes," replied Sam, "learned her when I was snowed up one winter with
Scar-Face down by the Burwash Lake country." He squinted his eyes,
reading the syllables slowly.

"'Abichi-ka-menot Moosamik-ka-ja yank. Missowa edookan owasi sek
negi-