"Aren't we a funny lot?" giggled Wapoos. "Mooswa's legs are like the posts of Man's cache--so long; and Otter's are like the knots on a tree--too short. See! there goes Black King and his red-headed Mother."
"That is the queerest outfit in the Boundaries," chuckled Muskwa. "The Widow is red, and three of the Sons; the Babe, Stripes, is brown, with a dark cross on his back; while the King is as black as my Daddy was. Sweet Honey! but his coat was beautiful--like the inside of a hole on a pitch-dark night. There is a family of Half-breeds up at The Landing just like the Widow's lot. Some are red-haired, some are brown, and some are black. I saw them once Fishing at Duck Lake."
"Did they see you, Muskwa?"
"Am I not here, Little Brother--therefore their eyes were busy with the Fish. Wu-u-f-f! I catch the scent of Man. Jump down, Wapoos; push through the Willows and tell me what thou seest."
Bear sat on his haunches and waited.
"There's a white lodge," reported Rabbit, as he hopped back, "and inside is a throat-call that is not of our Comrades."
"That's Man's tepee; most like it was The Boy's song your big ears heard."
They went forward gingerly, Wapoos acting as pilot. In a little open space where Red Stone Brook emptied into the Athabasca was a small "A" tent. The two comrades lay down in the willows to watch. Soon they were joined by Black King; Otter was already there. Then came Blue Wolf and Mooswa. As Carcajou joined them, Whisky-Jack fluttered into the centre of the party.
"That's a Tent," he said, with the air of a courier explaining sights to a party of tourists. "The Boy is putting on his fur. Do you hear his song-cry?"
"He hath a full stomach," growled Rof, "for his voice is rich in content. What is the cry, Bird of Knowledge?"