"You both shall come to the feast," he added kindly. The boys thanked him and as they turned away, a smile spread over Old Smoky Wolf's wrinkled face.
"My tribe are not women. A brave is no stranger in my village. These boys will become great hunters. At the sound of their moccasins the beaver will lie down to be killed," grunted the old chief.
CHAPTER II
PLANS AND PELTS
The sun grew warmer. The snow melted and trickled in little rivulets down to the river. Crocuses bloomed and red-winged blackbirds cried amid the yellowing willows in the bottoms. At last the ice broke in the river and the waters rushed madly along between its banks.
The hunters, who had been industrious all winter, gathered together the pelts of the animals they had killed. Buffalo robes and deer skins, together with pelts of minks, martins, foxes, wolves, beavers, bears, fishers, otters and raccoons. Thousands of muskrat skins were also made up into bundles.
The packs were loaded into canoes and the hunters set off down stream for the trading post at Mendota.