nt arm behind it and was launched straight at
Miki. Had it struck squarely it would have killed him. The big end of
it missed him; the smaller end landed against his neck and shoulder,
driving him back into the gloom with such force and suddenness that the
man thought he had done for him. He called out loudly to Makoki that he
had killed a young wolf or a fox, and dashed out into the darkness.

The club had knocked Miki fairly into the heart of a thick ground
spruce. There he lay, making no sound, with a terrible pain in his
shoulder. Between himself and the fire he saw the man bend over and
pick up the club. He saw Makoki hurrying toward him with ANOTHER club,
and under his shelter he made himself as small as he could. He was
filled with a great dread, for now he understood the truth. THESE men
were not Challoner. They were hunting for him--with clubs in their
hands. He knew what the clubs meant. His shoulder was almost broken.

He lay very still while the men searched about him. The Indian even
poked his stick into the thick ground spruce. The white man kept saying
that he was sure he had made a hit, and once he stood so near that
Miki's nose almost touched his boot. He went back and added fresh birch
to the fire, so that the light of it illumined a greater space about
them. Miki's heart stood still. But the men searched farther on, and at
last went back to the fire.

For an hour Miki did not move. The fire burned itself low. The old Cree
wrapped himself in a blanket, and the white man went into his tent. Not
until then did Miki dare to crawl out from under the spruce. With his
bruised shoulder making him limp at every step he hurried back over the
trail which he had followed so hopefully a little while before. The
man-scent no longer made his heart beat swiftly with joy. It was a
menace now. A warning. A thing from which he wanted to get away. He
would sooner have faced Oochak again, or the owls, than the white man
with his club. With the owls he could fight, but in the club he sensed
an overwhelming superiority.

The night was very still when he dragged himself back to the hollow log
in which he had killed the rabbit. He crawled into it, and nursed his
wounds through all the rest of the hours of darkness. In the early
morning he came out and ate the rest of the rabbit.

After that he faced the north and west--where Neewa was. There was no
hesitation now. He wanted Neewa again. He wanted to muzzle him with his
n