"Ride with Muskwa, Jack," commanded the King, "and show Mooswa the old Sleeper's house. Branch out, the rest of you, and make the Many-trail; for many trails make few catches." Carcajou was sitting on his haunches, licking his aching paws. "How are you going to get home, Little Comrade?" he asked.
"I'll give him a lift," interposed Blue Wolf. "Clamber up, old Curiosity." They were a funny-looking party--quite like an ambulance train; Muskwa asleep on Mooswa's horns, and Carcajou astraddle of Wolf's strong back.
THEY WERE A FUNNY-LOOKING PARTY.
"Walk in Rof's tracks, Pisew, till you strike a muskeg," ordered the King; "François won't fancy the fun of following a traveller like you through a big swamp."
"I should like to hide that Trap," lamented Carcajou.
"Oh, never mind," interrupted Black Fox. "Get away home, everybody."
"I'll hear some choice French to-night," declared Jack. "When François discovers that somebody has robbed his Trap, he'll jabber himself asleep."
All the way to his home Carcajou swore vengeance on the Man who had made his paws so sore. "You'll do it, Brother," said Rof, "and I don't blame you. Of course we must remember our oath about The Boy."
THE COMING OF THE TRAIN DOGS