The Boy crossed directly in the wind's path, and Mooswa got it stronger. Then he knew. His big eyes glistened softly, eagerly; it was the scent of the Lad he had played with in his youth.
"Comrades," he gurgled, for something was in his throat, "have I not told you of the Boy who was the Factor's Young?"
"Whenever you got a chance!" snapped Whisky-Jack.
Mooswa sighed wearily. Jack's frivolity was tiring to his sedate mind.
"Well, that's my Boy there. I'd like to rub my nose against his rose-flowered cheek."
"While François tickled your lean ribs with the Firestick!" jeered the Bird.
"Bring a pot of water," said François to his comrade, "while I cut up the fish."
"Great Suckers!" exclaimed Nekik; "Fish! and a beauty, too. It's a Tulabie. I know them; they're first cousin to White-fish. These men have fine taste--a fish diet makes one clever."
"It does!" declared Mink.
"It's better than roots!" concurred Muskrat.