Just when the young hunters felt they had failed to bring down the fox, the animal whirled and began to bite himself, as if something had stung him.
“We got um,” grunted Toma.
Sure enough, the fox dropped to his side and after kicking spasmodically for a few seconds remained still. One or more of their bullets had reached the mark and together the boys hastened up the slope to examine their kill.
They found the animal to be a fine specimen of the northern blue fox, with whose skin the Eskimos trimmed many of their warmest fur garments.
Toma drew his hunting knife from its sheath and began methodically to skin the fox, while Dick stood by admiring the beauty of the fur.
“I wish I could take that pelt home to mother,” he said half to himself.
Toma looked up and sniffed. “Huh, why you take um blue fox for your mother? Wait till you ketch um seal. Him worth heap more. I give my sister black fox skin robe one time. She use um for wipe feet on by door. She like um red wool blanket best.”
Dick had a hearty laugh at Toma’s expense, but the young Indian could not see anything funny in what he had said.
However, the lads started back to camp on the best of terms, carrying the blue fox pelt with them.
When they came in sight of the igloos they were wholly unprepared for what met their eyes. Speechless and terror stricken they stood and stared.