"
"No," replied the lad, "Skookum is not fit to travel now. We
can't leave him behind, and we can make a storehouse in three
days."
The unhappy little dog was worse than ever. He could scarcely
breathe, much less eat or drink, and the case was settled.
First they bathed the invalid's head in water as hot as he could
stand it. This seemed to help him so much that he swallowed
eagerly some soup that they poured into his mouth. A bed was
made for him in a sunny place and the hunters set about the new
building.
In three days the storehouse was done, excepting the chinking.
It was October now, and a sharp night frost warned them of the
hard white moons to come. Quonab, as he broke the ice in a tin
cup and glanced at the low-hung sun, said: "The leaves are
falling fast; snow comes soon; we need another line of traps."
He stopped suddenly; stared across the lake. Rolf looked, and
here came three deer, two bucks and a doe, trotting, walking, or
lightly clearing obstacles, the doe in advance; the others, rival
followers. As they kept along the shore, they came nearer the
cabin. Rolf glanced at Quonab, who nodded, then slipped in, got
down the gun, and quickly glided unseen to the river where the
deer path landed.
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