"Been to see him off, eh?" piped Whisky-Jack cheerily, fluttering up. "I heard him tell The Boy they'd go down to Hay River when he comes back from The Landing; but how did you Fellows know he was leaving this morning?"
"Rof got it from his Huskie sweetheart," said Lynx. "The Dogs were tied up last night, and the carryall outfit was lying ready at the door--that meant hitting the trail early this morning."
"Has the Man-Cub got Eating enough to last against François's return, Jack?" asked Bull Moose, solicitously.
"A dozen White Fish, a little flour, and some tea."
"That will keep the stomach-ache away, if the Breed comes back quickly," affirmed Mooswa.
Pisew cocked his Hair-plumed ears hungrily at the mention of Fish; and the thief-thought that was always in his heart kept whispering, "Fish! Fish! Fish that is in the Shack--The Boy's Fish!" The woods were so bare, too. It was the Seventh Year, the Famine Year, and a chance of eating came only at long intervals. Carcajou had robbed the Shack, and it had been accounted clever--all the Flesh Eaters had feasted merrily off the loot. Why should he not also steal the twelve Fish? But he was not like Carcajou, a feast-giver, an Animal to make himself popular by great gifts; if he stole the Fish he would cache them, and the eating would round up his lean stomach.
"Carrier of Messages," began Mooswa, addressing Whisky-Jack, "thy part of the Oath Promise is watching over The Boy. If aught goes wrong, bring thou the news."
"Very well, old Sober-sides," answered Jay, saucily. "I'll come and sit on your horns that have so many beautiful roosts for me, and whisper each day into your ear, that is big enough to hold my nest, all that happens at the Shack!"
"He'll keep you busy, Mooswa," smirked Pisew.
"Mooswa has time to spare for his Friends," answered Jack, "because he eats an honest dinner. You, Bob-tail, are so busy with your thieving and lying-in-wait for somebody's children to eat, that you have no time for honest talk."