his
eyes held by the great dogs sprawled about the beach. No such sled-dogs
as these had he ever seen at the post, even with the Esquimos. But his
grave face betrayed no sign of what was in his mind.

Massive of bone and frame, with coats unusually heavy, even for the
far-famed Ungava breed, Jean noted the strength and size of these
magnificent beasts as a horseman marks the points of a blooded colt.
Somewhat apart from the other dogs of Kovik, tumbling and roughing each
other, frolicked four clumsy puppies, while the mother, a great
slate-gray and white animal, lay near, watching her progeny through eyes
whose lower lids, edged with red, marked the wolf strain. While those
slant eyes kept restless guard, to molest one of her leggy, yelping imps
of Satan would have been the bearding of a hundred furies. The older
dogs, evidently knowing the power in the snap of her white fangs,
avoided the puppies.

One, in particular, Marcel noticed as they romped and roughed each other
on the shore, or with a brave show of valor, noisily charged their
recumbent mother, only to be sent about their business with the mild
reprimand of a nip from her long fangs. Larger, and of sturdier build
than her brothers, this puppy, in marking, was the counterpart of the
mother, having the same slate-gray patches on head and back and wearing
white socks. As he watched her bully her brothers, Jean resolved to buy
that four-months'-old puppy.

As the northern twilight filled the river valley, the Huskies returned
to the lodge, where Jean squeezed in between two younger members of the
family whose characteristic aroma held sleep from the fatigued
_voyageur_ long enough for him to decide on a plan of action. Before he
started to trade for dogs he must learn if the Esquimos knew that they
were scarce at the fur-posts. If rumor of this relayed up the coast from
Husky hunting party to hunting party, had reached them, he would be
lucky to get even a puppy. They would send their spare dogs to the
posts.

The following morning, at the suggestion of Kovik, Marcel set his
gill-net for whitefish on the opposite shore of the wide river, as the
younger Esquimos showed unmistakably by their actions that his presence
at the salmon fishing, soon to begin, was resented. But Jean needed food
for his journey down the coast and for the dogs he hoped to buy, so
ignored the dark looks cast at the mysterious white man, the friend of
Kovik. But not until evening did he