which years of experience had taught Wabi always to respect. Perhaps a
roving fox had frightened it, perhaps the bird had taken to noisy flight
at the near tread of a moose, a caribou, or a deer. But--

To Wabi the soft, quick notes of the moose-bird spelled man! In an
instant he was upon his feet, darting quickly into the sheltering cedars
of the shore. Through these he now made his way with extreme caution,
keeping close to the bank of the frozen stream. After a little he paused
again and concealed himself behind the end of a fallen log. Ahead of him
he could look into the snow gloom between the cedars, and whatever was
coming through that gloom would have to pass within a dozen yards of
him. Each moment added to his excitement. He heard the chatter of a red
squirrel, much nearer than the moose-bird. Once he fancied that he heard
the striking of two objects, as though a rifle barrel had accidentally
come into contact with the dead limb of a tree.

Suddenly the Indian youth imagined that he saw something--an indistinct
shadow that came in the snow gloom, then disappeared, and came again. He
brushed the water and snow from his eyes with one of his mittened hands
and stared hard and steadily. Once more the shadow disappeared, then
came again, larger and more distinct than before. There was no doubt
now. Whatever had startled the moose-bird was coming slowly,
noiselessly.

Wabi brought his rifle to his shoulder. Life and death hovered with his
anxious, naked finger over the gun trigger. But he was too well trained
in the ways of the wilderness to fire just yet. Yard by yard the shadow
approached, and divided itself into two shadows. Wabi could now see that
they were men. They were advancing in a cautious, crouching attitude, as
though they expected to meet enemies somewhere ahead of them. Wabi's