he dip. Vainly he quested
about him for his comrade. He grunted and squealed, and tried to catch
the scent of him in the air. He ran up the creek a distance, and back
again. Ahtik counted as nothing now.

Miki was gone.

CHAPTER TEN

A quarter of a mile away Miki had heard the clamour of the crows. But
he was in no humour to turn back, even had he guessed that Neewa was in
need of his help. He was hungry from long fasting and, for the present,
his disposition had taken a decided turn. He was in a mood to tackle
anything in the eating line, no matter how big, but he was a good mile
from the dip in the side of the ridge before he found even a crawfish.
He crunched this down, shell and all. It helped to take the bad taste
out of his mouth.

The day was destined to hold for him still another unforgettable event
in his life. Now that he was alone the memory of his master was not so
vague as it had been yesterday, and the days before. Brain-pictures
came back to him more vividly as the morning lengthened into afternoon,
bridging slowly but surely the gulf that Neewa's comradeship had
wrought. For a time the exciting thrill of his adventure was gone. Half
a dozen times he hesitated on the point of turning back to Neewa. It
was hunger that always drove him on a little farther. He found two more
crawfish. Then the creek deepened and its water ran slowly, and was
darker. Twice he chased old rabbits, that got away from him easily.
Once he came within an ace of catching a young one. Frequently a
partridge rose with a thunder of wings. He saw moose-birds, and jays,
and many squirrels. All about him was meat which it was impossible for
him to catch. Then fortune turned his way. Poking his head into the end
of a hollow log he cornered a rabbit so completely that there was no
escape. During the next few minutes he indulged in the first square
meal he had eaten for three days.

So absorbed was he in his feast that he was unconscious of a new
arrival on the scene. He did not hear the coming of Oochak, the
fisher-cat; nor, for a few moments, did he smell him. It was not in
Oochak's nature to make a disturbance. He was by birth and instinct a
valiant hunter and a gentleman, and when he saw Miki (whom he took to
be a young wolf) feeding on a fresh kill, he made no move to demand a
share for himself. Nor did he run away. He would undoubtedly have
continued on his way very soon if Miki had not finally sensed his
presence, and f