"I smell powder!" declared Carcajou, quietly.
"The evil breath of the Ironstick?" queried Blue Wolf. "Perhaps the White Death-powder makes that peculiar odour," he hazarded.
"No," asserted Carcajou; "François knows better than that: to smell that Bait costs nothing; to bite it makes a heavier price than either of us cares to pay. François knows that we smell first, and bite last; and if our noses detected aught amiss would we pull the string with our teeth?"
"Cunning old Thief!" mused Wolf to himself.
"Do either of you food-hunters want it?" asked Carcajou.
"I’m not very hungry this morning," answered Blue Wolf.
"I discovered seven Deer Mice under a log not two hours ago," lied Pisew; "sweet, long-eared little Chaps they were, and quite fat from eating the seeds of the yellow-lipped Sunflower--most delicious flavour it gives to their flesh. My stomach is at peace for the first time in many days."
"Keep your eye open for the Breed-Man, then," commanded Wolverine; "I think I’d relish that Caribou steak--your Deer-Mice have given me an appetite." He tore the pine logs away from one side of the gun, examined the string critically, cut it with his sharp teeth just behind the bait, and devoured the fresh meat with great gusto, smacking his lips with a tantalizing suggestiveness of good fare.
"In case of accidents I think I’d better break up this Ironstick," he said. Seizing the hammer in his strong jaws, and placing his paws on the barrel and stock, he tore it off and completely demolished the old muzzle-loader.
"Well," yawned Wolf, stretching himself, "you’re a match for the Man, I believe. I’m off, for I’ve got a long run ahead of me--the Pack gathers to-night at Deep Creek."
"What’s the run--Stag?" asked Pisew, insinuatingly.
"Whatever it may be it will be all eaten," answered Rof; "so you needn’t trail. Good-bye, Lieutenant," he barked, loping with powerful strides through the woods out of sight.
"I’ll go with you, most wise Lieutenant," declared Pisew.
"Well, trot along in front," grunted Carcajou; "I want to fix the trail a bit." After they had walked for half an hour Wolverine stopped, and, cocking his eye up a slim pole which seemed to grow from the centre of a high Spruce stump, exclaimed, "Great-Eating! what in the name of Wiesahkechack is that?"