For three days nothing unusual happened. Hunger commenced to nip at every one, for, as we know, it was the Seventh Year of the Rabbit cycle, and they were scarce. All the others envied old Muskwa, slumbering peacefully, nourished by the fat of his Summer's pillage.
The narrow body of Lynx was getting narrower, the gaunt sides of Blue Wolf gaunter. Fisher and Marten were living on Deer Mice, Squirrels, and small game; and the Red Widow's family were depending almost entirely upon Spruce Partridge--the flesh of these birds had become particularly astringent, too. The gray-mottled, pin-tail Grouse had entirely disappeared--better eating they were, the Widow contended; but in the Seventh Year it was not a matter of selection at all, and each Animal was poaching on the other's preserve--all because of the scarcity of Wapoos. But in spite of the general starvation, every one left a small dole of his food for Carcajou, whose paws were too sore to prowl about. He felt the restricted diet more than any of them, being a perfect gourmand,--"Gulo the Glutton," that was his name; and he liked good living.
On the fourth day Whisky-Jack startled his comrades with the announcement that François had acquired a train of four dogs from Nichemous, who was passing down the ice-road of the river with a Free-Trader. Blue Wolf snuffed discontentedly at the news; they were his enemies, and many a scar he carried as souvenir of combats with these domesticated cousins. Family instinct, however, led him to skulk close to François's Shack one evening hoping to see the dogs. He went often after the first visit, though advised by Carcajou that it would end in his getting a destroying blast from the Firestick.
"They haven't got one," Rof assured him. "You destroyed the only Ironstick they had."
"That was an old Trade Musket," retorted Wolverine. "François is too clever to put his good Ironstick out in the wet. You'll find that he has another, if you don't keep away. What's the attraction, anyway?" he asked. "There can't be anything to eat there, with those yelping Huskies about."
It was Whisky-Jack who gave the secret away. "Blue Wolf's in love," he said, solemnly; "three of the Train are of the sister kind, and Rof's got his eye on one. François calls her 'Marsh Maid,' but the Train-leader is a big Huskie Dog, and he'll chew Growler the Wolf into little bits--I sha'n't mind, Rof's too surly for me."
Blue Wolf became a great dandy; brushed his coat--scraped the snow away from a moss patch in the Jack-Pines, and rubbed his shaggy fur till it became quite presentable.
The big fight that Jack anticipated so eagerly materialized, but, contrary to Jay's forecast, Rof trounced the Huskie soundly. After that he came and went pretty much as he desired--growled his admiration of Marsh Maid, and took forcible possession of Huskie's White Fish.
All this nearly brought sorrow to the Red Widow's family, for Stripes, the Kit-Fox, having his curiosity roused by Jack's recital of Blue Wolf's doings, incautiously ventured close to the Shack one day to have a look at the Train. With an angry howl Huskie swooped down upon him, and but for Rod, who, hearing Stripes's plaintive squeal, rushed out and drove the Dog off, he would have been most effectually eaten up. The young Fox fled for his life, and his tale of this adventure filled the Red Widow's heart with gratitude toward The Boy.
Within the Boundaries the food fever was strong on the Animals, and François's baits became an almost irresistible temptation. Trap after Trap Black King and his family robbed, leaving the Meat with the White Powder in, and taking it when it was clear of this, until François was in despair.