“We catch heem—­sure!  See—­sledge heem go deep.  Both ride.  Big load for dogs.  We catch heem—­sure!”

“But our dogs!” persisted Wabigoon, his face still filled with doubt.  “They’re completely bushed, and my leader has gone lame.  See how they’re bleeding!”

The huskies, as the big wolfish sledge-dogs of the far North are called, were indeed in a pitiable condition.  The warm sun had weakened the hard crust of the snow until at every leap the feet of the animals had broken through, tearing and wounding themselves on its ragged, knife-like edges.  Mukoki’s face became more serious as he carefully examined the teams.

“Bad—­ver’ bad,” he grunted.  “We fool—­fool!”

“For not bringing dog shoes?” said Wabigoon.  “I’ve got a dozen shoes on my sledge—­enough for three dogs.  By George—­” He leaped quickly to his toboggan, caught up the dog moccasins, and turned again to the old Indian, alive with new excitement.  “We’ve got just one chance, Muky!” he half shouted.

“Pick out the strongest dogs.  One of us must go on alone!”

The sharp commands of the two adventurers and the cracking of Mukoki’s whip brought the tired and bleeding animals to their feet.  Over the pads of three of the largest and strongest were drawn the buckskin moccasins, and to these three, hitched to Wabigoon’s sledge, were added six others that appeared to have a little endurance still left in them.  A few moments later the long line of dogs was speeding swiftly over the trail of the Hudson Bay mail, and beside the sled ran Wabigoon.

Thus this thrilling pursuit of the dog mail had continued since early dawn.  For never more than a minute or two at a time had there been a rest.  Over mountain and lake, through dense forest and across barren plain man and dog had sped without food or drink, snatching up mouthfuls of snow here and there—­always their eyes upon the fresh trail of the flying mail.  Even the fierce huskies seemed to understand that the chase had become a matter of life and death, and that they were to follow the trail ahead of them, ceaselessly and without deviation, until the end of their masters was accomplished.  The human scent was becoming stronger and stronger in their wolf-like nostrils.  Somewhere on that trail there were men, and other dogs, and they were to overtake them!

Even now, bleeding and stumbling as they ran, the blood of battle, the excitement of the chase, was hot within them.  Half-wolf, half-dog, their white fangs snarling as stronger whiffs of the man-smell came to them, they were filled with the savage desperation of the youth who urged them on.  The keen instinct of the wild pointed out their road to them, and they needed no guiding hand.  Faithful until the last they dragged on their burden, their tongues lolling farther from their jaws, their hearts growing weaker, their eyes bloodshot until they glowed like red balls.  Now and then, when he had run until his endurance