"Those of which moose-nose and bear-tail are the equivalents."
"Give me caribou-tongue for luxury," said Caird, and his fine lined face was eager. "The tongue of a young caribou just before they separate in the ice-moon. There's no better feeding on earth."
"I ran across the female camp on the shores of some lake last winter," said Brodribb. "Thousands of 'em, pushing north to the sea, and their coats just prime. When is the Government sending a survey into that country, Caird? What say? Why, it was in west of Smith. A fine lake, and I named it Caribou, but I guess I won't find it any more unless I get hold of the Indians. It was on one of their stamping-grounds, all right. Tepee-poles everywhere in the snow."
Grahame, the big Mounted Police boy, sat forward with hands gripped between his knees. His eyes were alight for the cold white nights and the tepee-ribs by the frozen lake where the caribou roamed were to him the land where he would be.
"And a fellow could shoot them—and shoot bear!" he said.
Dick looked at him keenly. To the far-scattered posts whose positions are shown on the Police maps by little red flags come many grades of men for Canada's serving. Sons of earls, some; medical students, and clowns and lumber-jacks; men from all the regular armies of the earth; home-produced farmers, American broncho-busters, and everything in between. Hours ago Dick had placed Grahame as the younger son of some Scotch laird or baronet, and he guessed at the steady Scotch courage which the long winter patrols would not daunt.
"I've been held up half-a-day by caribou swimming Artillery Lake," said Caird. "It was a sheer black line of horns ruled across it, and they poured down over the crest of the hill like molasses out of a jug. We didn't dare bring our canoes near for fear of getting mixed up. So we paddled around and timed them. That bunch took exactly six hours and eighteen minutes to pass a given point. They weren't sloushing it any, either."
"Goo-od Lord," said young Grahame, and drew his
