and see that Roka
and Pehansan do the same."

Will was gay and light of heart, but he obeyed the injunction of
Inmutanka and filled the quiver. He saw that Roka and Pehansan had an
abundance, also, and the three, wrapped in furs, departed on their
snowshoes. The Indians had not gone much toward the upper end of the
valley. The slopes were less precipitous there and the forest heavier,
giving better hiding for the great wild beasts, and hence making them
much more dangerous. But with his magnificent new bow on his shoulder
and his stout comrades beside him Will was not afraid.

The cold was less intense than it had been for some time and the
exercise of walking with the snowshoes gave them plenty of warmth. The
snow itself, which had now begun to soften at the surface, lay to a
depth of about three feet, hiding the river save where the Indians had
cut holes through ice and snow to capture fish.

Pehansan, an inveterate hunter who would willingly have passed a
thousand years of good life in such pursuits, had an idea that elk might
be found in some of the secluded alcoves to the north. His mind was full
of such thoughts, but Will, exhilarated by motion, was looking at the
mountain tops which, like vast white pillars, were supporting a sky of
glittering blue. He swept his hand in a wide gesture.

"It's a fit place up there for Manitou to live," he said.

"Beyond the blue the hunting grounds go on forever," said Pehansan.

"I can understand and appreciate your belief," said Will in his
enthusiasm. "Think of it, Pehansan, to be strong and young forever and
forever; never to know wounds or weariness; to hunt the game over
thousands and tens of thousands of miles; to find buffaloes and bears
and elk and moose twice, yes, three times as big as any here on earth;
to discover and cross rivers and lakes and seas and always to come back
safe! To sleep well every night and to wake every morning as keen for
the chase as ever! to have your friends with you always, and to strive
with them in the hunt in generous emulation! Aye, Pehansan, that would
be the life!"

"Some day I shall find the life of which you speak so well, Waditaka! A
happy death on the battlefield and lo! I have it!"

"Think you that the snow is now too soft to bear the weight of the
wolves?" asked Roka, breaking into plain prose.

"Not yet," replied Pehansan, the mighty hunter, "but it may be soon.
Hark to their howling on the slopes among the dwarf trees!"