Wolverine spoke: "I have been Lieutenant to the Black King for four years--I am satisfied. When our enemies, the Trappers, have tried to catch us by new wiles His Majesty has told us how to escape."
"Did he, always?" demanded the Bird. "Who knew of the little White Powder that François put in the Meat--the White Medicine Powder he had in a bottle? Neither you, Carcajou, nor Black King, nor any one tasted that--did you? Even now you do not know the name of it; but I can tell you--it's strychnine. Ha, ha! but that was funny. They put it out, and I, Whisky-Jack, whom you call a Tramp, told you. I, Jack the Gabbler, flew till my wings were tired warning you to beware."
"You might have saved yourself the trouble," retorted Wolverine; "Black King would have found it with his nose. Can he not tell even if any Man has touched the Meat that is always a Bait?"
"Stupid!" exclaimed Jack; "do you think the Men are such fools? They handle not the Bait which is put in the Traps--they know that all the brains you chaps have are in your noses. Catch François, the Half-breed, doing that; he's too clever. He cuts it with a long knife, and handles it with a stick. The little White Powder that is the essence of death is put in a hole in the Meat. I know; I've seen them at it. Haven't their Train-Dogs noses also--and didn't two of them that time eat the Bait, and die before they had travelled the length of a Rabbit-run. I saw them--they grew stiff and quiet, like the White Man who fell in the snow last Winter when he was lost. But I'm satisfied with Black Fox; and you can be his Lieutenant--I don't care."
"Yes," continued Carcajou, "who among us is more fitted to be King? Muskwa is strong, and big, and brave; but soon he will go into his house, and sleep until Spring. What would become of us with no King for months?"
"Yes, I'm sleepy," answered Bear--"and tired. I've tramped up and down the banks of the river eating white Buffalo-berries and red Cranberries until I'm weary. They are so small, and I am so big; it keeps me busy all day."
"You've got stout on it," chuckled Jack. "I wish I could get fat."
"You talk too much, and fret yourself to death over other people's business," growled Bear. "You're a meddling Tramp."
"Muskwa," said Mink, "there are bushels and bushels of big, juicy, Black Currants up in the Muskeg, near the creek I fish in--I wish I could eat them. Swimming, swimming all day after little frightened Fish, that are getting so cunning. Why, they hide under sticks, and get up in shallow water among the stones, so that I can hardly see them. It must be pleasant to sit up on your quarters, nice and dry, pull down the bushes and eat great, juicy Berries. I wish I lived on fruit."
"No you don't," snarled Jay; "you'd sell your Mother for a fish."