Adventure Magazine Cover, December 10, 1922 — page 106: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

100 where he skipped aside with a rabbit that blundered into this mink trap. Notice how the snow is scratched up, but there are no blood-stains!””’ “Here are tooth-marks on the frozen crust,’ McKee pointed out. “The Forty Thieves ate even the stained snow. They must be ravenous, Andrew. Shall we call it a week’s work and toddle off south?”’ “Run away from a cur dog?” the Ameri- can demanded. “No! We'll stick it out and trap him.” “Only poison would get him,” Johnny said ruefully; “and we haven’t any.”’ “Slip him a couple of your half-cooked flapjacks,” his partner suggested, unfeel- ingly. ‘‘Wait! I’ve an idea: We'll pound a piece of glass into slivers and make him a dog-biscuit that'll be even worse than your cooking!” Before crawling in for the night they set out an attractive mouthful for the renegade dog, and went to sleep with clear con- sciences. And before midnight a snow- storm silently came down from the north and buried the trap-lines a foot deep and still was not satisfied. “We'll wait until this white swirl is over before we go out to look for the big mutt,” Johnny McKee decided at dawn, and An- drew West did not dispute the wisdom of the delay. Outside one could not see more than a rod and the soft hissing of the falling snow would muffle the approach of an enemy. For three ensuing days the white snow fell uninterruptedly, and when it ceased there were six feet of it so powdery that snow-shoes were little aid. Each night, also, they had heard a chorus of howling deep in the forest where the pack could travel under the arched trees that held up some of the snow. A louder, rounder, more sustained note in the wild music suggested that the singer was the huge dog that had robbed the traps. “The wolves must be living on hares,” the Canadian said. ‘‘Moose are in their ‘yards,’ and the deer were killed off by the pack during the Winter because we saw only the track of one doe, you remember. _ Don’t you wish we’d pulled up stakes last week, Andrew?” “No; it feels like rain—and then we'll get that thieving cur,” West declared, stubbornly. What say? Adventure Spring came overhead within an hour it seemed, the wind veering squarely around until it was out of the south. Then a deluge of rain overwhelmed the land for a day and a night. The snow on the trap-lines was beaten down into a white mush and the sur- face of the lake appeared as if it was Sum- mer water. ‘“‘And now for my little freeze,” the Ameri- can announced, hopefully. He had his wish, and when the next morn- ing broke clear and cold Opal Lake was glassy and there was a crust on the land- trails exactly suited for skis. ‘““Here’s our chance; we'll dig up the traps and say, ‘Wolves, good-by!’ ’’ McKee an- nounced with an air of. finality—and West nodded consent. Andrew had been lying awake unneces- sarily late at night listening to the unsympa- thetic serenade of the pack. They put on skis and swung skates over their shoulders, intending to run the lake trap-line and return. aross the ice to the cabin and then to clean up the winding river water-sets. Each carried a rifle as usual, and the extra weapon still in the duffel bag was there strictly because it would be awkward, morally and physically, for either the Canadian or the American to add it to his armament. A mile out on the short line they found the trail of a bull moose, the great stride showing that he had traveled at high speed. Fifty feet to windward were the tracks of the dog and a like distance away the rest of the pack had run. Sharp details of hoof and paw had been preserved in the frozen slush. Among the low-hanging trees the antlers of the bull had torn off twigs and the branches were twisted as evidence of his headlong flight. ‘The mutt ran closer to the bull’s trail,” McKee explained, “because his scenting power isn’t quite as keen as that of his wild brothers. Now, that moose would go fifty miles straight away, so we are rid of the pack for some time eyen if they don’t pull him down. You pick up this line of traps to the end of the lake, make a sled with your skis and skate back with ’em while I do the same down the river—and tomorrow we'll jump out of here.” “T’ll say you said something commend- able!’ West agreed. “I’ve lost considerable sleep at night lying awake thinking about— about new-laid eggs and fresh bread! It comichbooks (E(0)