; then the
big wolf leaped aside and sat down quietly again to watch.

It was soon finished. The stag plunged away, settled into his long rack,
slowed down to a swaying, weakening trot. After him at a distance glided
the big wolf, lapping eagerly at the crimson trail, but holding himself
with tremendous will power from rushing in headlong and driving the
game, which might run for miles if too hard pressed. The stag sank to
his knees; a sharp yelp rang like a pistol-shot through the still woods;
then the pack rolled in like a whirlwind, and it was all over.

Creeping near on the trail the little hunters crouched under a low
spruce, watching as if fascinated the wild feast of the wolves. Noel's
bow was ready in his hand; but luckily the sight of these huge, powerful
brutes overwhelmed him and drove all thoughts of killing out of his
head. Mooka plucked him by the sleeve at last, and pointed silently
homewards. It was surely time to go, for the biggest wolf had already
stretched himself and was licking his paws, while the two cubs with full
stomachs were rolling over and over and biting each other playfully in
the snow. Silently they stole away, stopping only to tie a rag to a
pointed stick, which they thrust between their own caribou's ribs to
make the wolves suspicious and keep them from tearing the game and
eating the tidbits while the little hunters hurried away to bring the
men with their guns and dog sledges.

They had almost crossed the second barren when Mooka, looking back
uneasily from the edge of the woods, saw a single big wolf emerge across
the barren and follow swiftly on their trail. Startled at the sight,
they turned swiftly to run; for that terrible feeling which sweeps over
a hunter, when for the first time he finds himself hunted in his turn,
had clutched their little hearts and crushed all their confidence. A
sudden panic seized them; they rushed away for the woods, running side
by side till they broke into the fringe of evergreen that surrounded the
barren. There they dropped breathless under a low fir and turned to
look.

"It was wrong to run, little brother," whispered Mooka.

"Why?" said Noel.

"Cause Wayeeses see it, and think we 'fraid."

"But I was 'fraid out there, little sister," confessed Noel bravely.
"Here we can climb tree; good chance shoot um with my arrows."

Like two frightened rabbits they crouched under the fir, staring back
with wild round eyes over the trail, fearing every