THE PRIZE BASKET 131

slave girl returned and despatched Koots to fetch
her handiwork.

“Go and bring my basket, Koots!” Lana com-
manded the eager little dog, who had been strug-
gling to free himself from Steilta’s arms.

Off Koots darted with his awkward limping gait,
his scrawny little body quivering with excitement,
his nose upon the ground as he followed Lana’s scent
around and around the lodges and totem poles. At
length he came to a cleverly hidden basket and halted.
Sniff, sniff! Koots touched the basket with his nose
and hesitated, his head cocked as if he were puzzled.
Sniff, sniff! Lana had touched this basket, but the
stronger scent was that of Kish, whom Koots did not
like because she was always teasing him. This could
not be the object Lana had commanded him to bring.
It did not belong to her. He trotted on.

Finally he came to the other basket and sniffed it
eagerly, his tail wagging with satisfaction as he caught
Lana’s scent. This was Lana’s basket. It was the basket
he had sniffed many times when she was making it.
It even bore his own scent, for he had often touched
it. There was a faint trace of Kish’s scent, too, but
only a trace. There was no doubt about this basket.
It was the right one.

After a short tussle with the lid which he tore off
and left lying upon the ground, Koots obtained a firm
hold upon the basket and started proudly back to the