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36 WINTER TRAILS

up in clouds to sting our faces. Three of the dogs
struggled and tugged at the sleigh in their attempts
to follow, but there was one who hung back in his
collar, cringing in the snow.

A rifle-shot tore through the heavy silence of the
country. A curly tail whisked round and round on
the snow, and was still. The three dogs in harness
turned their heads and stood tense and motionless
as the empty collar was unhooked from the harness
and laid upon the sleigh.

“Mush, Bonzo.”’

Again we went forward through the blinding
snow, stumbling step by step over the weary white
miles of the lake.

* * *

“Do you see what I see in that clump of trees
over there?”

“Smoke!”

As we approached the dark patch of spruce we
heard the unmistakable yapping of bear-dogs, and
knew that we had stumbled across an Indian camp.
Presently two or three of these cheeky black
animals ran out to meet us, their feather-weight
bodies supported on the surface of the snow. They
encircled us as we came toward them, just as it was