“Do you know how those cross fox he’ll get his mark on his back that way?” asked Moise of Rob.
“No, only I suppose they were always that way.”
“You know those fox?”
“We all know them,” interrupted John. “There’s a lot of them up in Alaska—reddish, with smoky black marks on the back and shoulders, and a black tail with a white tip. They’re worth money, too, sometimes.”
“Maybe Moise will tell you a story about how the fox got marked,” said Alex quietly.
“Oh, go ahead, Moise,” said all the boys. “We’d like to hear that.”
“Well, one tam,” said Moise, reaching to the fire to get a coal for his pipe, and leaning back against a blanket-roll, “all fox that ron wild was red, like some fox is red to-day. But those tam was some good fox an’ some bad fox. Then Wiesacajac, he’ll get mad with some fox an’ mark heem that way. He’ll been bad fox, that’s how he get mark.”
“Wiesacajac?” asked Rob. “What do you mean by that?”
“He means one of the wood-spirits of the Cree Indians,” answered Alex, quietly. “You know, the Injuns have a general belief in the Great Spirit. Well, Wiesacajac is a busy spirit of the woods, and is usually good-natured.”