At the foot of this hill Mukoki and his companion struck the creek.  They had not progressed more than fifty rods when the old Indian stopped and pointed at a fallen log which spanned the stream.  The snow on this log was beaten by tiny footprints.  Mukoki gazed a moment, cast an observant eye along the trail, and at once threw off his pack.

“Mink!” he explained.  He crossed the frozen creek, taking care not to touch the log.  On the opposite side the tracks spread out over a windfall of trees.  “Whole family mink live here,” continued Mukoki.  “T’ree—­mebby four—­mebby five.  Build trap-house right here!”

Never before had Rod seen a trap set as the old Indian now set his.  Very near the end of the log over which the mink made their trail he quickly built a shelter of sticks which when completed was in the form of a tiny wigwam.  At the back of this was placed a chunk of the caribou meat, and in front of this bait, so that an animal would have to spring it in passing, was set a trap, carefully covered with snow and a few leaves.  Within twenty minutes Mukoki had built two of these shelters and had set two traps.

“Why do you build those little houses?” asked Rod, as they again took up their trail.

“Much snow come in winter,” elucidated the Indian.  “Build house to keep snow off traps.  No do that, be digging out traps all winter.  When mink—­heem smell meat—­go in house he got to go over trap.  Make house for all small animal like heem.  No good for lynx.  He see house—­walk roun’ ‘n’ roun’ ‘n’ roun’—­and then go ’way.  Smart fellow—­lynx.  Wolf and fox, too.”

“Is a mink worth much?”

“Fi’ dollar—­no less that.  Seven—­eight dollar for good one.”

During the next mile six other mink traps were set.  The creek now ran along the edge of a high rocky ridge and Mukoki’s eyes began to shine with a new interest.  No longer did he seem entirely absorbed in the discovery of signs of fur animals.  His eyes were constantly scanning the sun-bathed side of the ridge ahead and his progress was slow and cautious.  He spoke in whispers, and Rod followed his example.  Frequently the two would stop and scan the openings for signs of life.  Twice they set fox traps where there were evident signs of runways; in a wild ravine, strewn with tumbled trees and masses of rock, they struck a lynx track and set a trap for him at each end of the ravine; but even during these operations Mukoki’s interest was divided.  The hunters now walked abreast, about fifty yards apart, Rod never forging a foot ahead of the cautious Mukoki.  Suddenly the youth heard a low call and he saw his companion beckoning to him with frantic enthusiasm.

“Wolf!” whispered Mukoki as Rod joined him.

In the snow were a number of tracks that reminded Rod of those made by a dog.

“T’ree wolf!” continued the Indian jubilantly.  “Travel early this morning.  Somewhere in warm sun on mountain!”