"This is fair--it is a good Law," said Black Fox.

"It is!" they all cried in chorus.

"I am satisfied!" added the Moose.

"I think it would be well, Subjects," said Black King, thoughtfully, "to watch this Man and Man-Cub until the setting out of the Traps; after that we can regulate our lives in accordance. How long will it take them to build their Shack, Clerk?"

"Four days, Francois told The Boy last evening, as he smoked the scent-flower."

"Then on the fourth day, three or four of us who are quick travellers had better go and watch the evil ways of this Slayer. What say you all?"

"Most wise King," exclaimed Pisew, "select thou the Strong Runners."

"Very well: Mooswa, Muskwa, Rof, and myself--also Carcajou, for he has great knowledge of Man the Killer's ways."

"I should like to see the lodge when it is finished," whined Beaver, "but my short little fore-legs travel not overfast on land."

"So you shall, Comrade," growled Muskwa; "You may ride on my back."

"Or on my antlers," suggested Mooswa; "their bowl will be like a cradle for you."

"That's settled, then," declared Black Fox. "On the fourth round of the Sun we meet at Francois's Shack, in the safety time of the Forest, dawn hour; either that or dusk hour. What say you Brothers--which shall it be?"

"It would suit me better on account of my work," ventured Umisk, "to go at dusk hour. I have lost much time lately, and I'm building new lodges for my three-year-old Sons who are starting out for themselves this Fall."

"Don't be late, then--I go to bed at dusk," lisped Whisky-Jack, mincingly, for his tongue was wondrous sore. "I will take note of what the Men do in the meantime."

"And take care of us, O Wise Bird," sneered Pisew.

"Big-feet! Spear-ear! Herring-waist!" fairly screamed Jay, forgetting the sore tongue in his rage. "Before Winter is over, you'll be glad of Jack's advice, or I don't know Francois."

"The white of a Partridge egg is good for a burn," retorted Lynx. "Find one and cool your fevered tongue."

"Are not these wranglers just like Men, Carcajou?" remarked Mooswa. "If you all spent more time in lawful hunt for food you would be fatter. It will profit me more to browse in the Forest than listen to your frost-singed wit, so I leave you, Comrades."

"And I prefer even fat Frogs to hot fat Pork," said Pisew, maliciously, slinking like a shadow into the woods.

"'Fat Frogs,'" sneered Carcajou; "good enough for that smooth-faced Sneak--I hardly know what I'm going to have for dinner, though."

"Fat Birds are the thing to tickle my appet.i.te," declared Black King.

"It is coming the time of day for them to shove their heads under wing, too. I'm off--remember we meet on the Fourth day."

THE EXPLORATION OF CARCAJOU

At sunset on the Fourth day Black King and his party once more crouched in the willows at Red Stone Brook. Francois and his young friend were just putting some finishing touches to the Shack roof--placing the last earth sods on top of the poles, for it was a mud covering.

"It's nearly finished," whispered Jay.

"Strong Teeth! but that is funny," laughed Beaver.

"What is funny, Eater of Wood?" queried Jack.

"Why, the Man carries his trowel-tail in his front paws. I wish I could do that. I have to turn around to look when I'm doing a nice bit of plastering."

It was the Half-breed's spade that had drawn forth this remark.

"Yes," declared Whisky-Jack wisely, "one time the Men were like you--walked on four legs and used a trowel-tail for their building; now they stand upright, and have shed the trowel which they use in their hands."

"Wonderful!" soliloquized Umisk; "still they can't do as good work. Fat Poplar! but it's a poor Lodge. The only sensible thing about it is the mud roof."

Francois struck the clod sharply with his spade, settling it into place.

"How clumsily the Man works," cried Beaver; "I'm glad my tail is where it is. What's that mud thing sticking up out of the corner, Jay? Is it a little lodge for the Kit-Man?"

"That's a chimney--part of the fire-trap," answered Jack.

"I know what that's like," a.s.serted Carcajou. "I went down one once.

The Trapper locked his door, thinking to keep me out while he rounded up his Traps. It's a splendid trail for getting in and out of a Shack.

Why, I can carry a side of bacon up that hole--did it."

"Isn't The Boy lovely?" muttered Mooswa. "Isn't his call sweet? What does Francois name him, Jack--Man-Cub or Kit-Man?"

Just then the Half-breed sang out: "Rod, I t'ink me it's grub time--knock off. De ole s'ack s'e's finis'."

"Rod?" mused the Moose. "Yes, that is what the Factor used to call him.

'Rod! Rod!' he would shout, and The Boy would run with his little fat legs."

Rod and the Half-breed went inside, closed the door and lighted a candle, for it was growing dark, put a fire in the stove and cooked their supper.

The watchers, eager to see everything, edged cautiously up to the log walls. s.p.a.ce for a small window had been left by the builders, but the sash was not yet in place.

"I should like to see that mud-work the Man did with his hand-trowel,"

whispered Umisk.

"Climb on my horns, Little Brother," said Mooswa, softly, "and I will lift you up."

Beaver slipped around gently on the roof inspecting Francois's handicraft, while the others listened at the window.

"By Goss! Rod," said the Breed, "I put me leetle fire in de fire-place for dry dat c'imney, s'e's sof. De fros' spoil him when s'e's no dry."

"I believe they have made the chimney too small," muttered Carcajou.

"I'm going up to have a look."

"To-mor' we put out dat Traps," remarked the Half-breed. "What you t'ink, Boy--I see me dat Black Fox yesterday."