The full moon was just clear of the high mountain ranges. Surrounded by a ring of bluish haze, it looked almost as if it were frozen against the impalpable blue- black of the reckless midwinter sky.
The game scout moved slowly homeward, well wrapped in his long buffalo robe, which was securely belted to his strong loins; his quiver tightly tied to his shoulders so as not to impede his progress. It was enough to carry upon his feet two strong snow-shoes; for the snow was deep and its crust too thin to bear his weight.
As he emerged from the lowlands into the upper regions, he loomed up a gigantic figure against the clear, moonlit horizon. His pic- turesque foxskin cap with all its trimmings was incrusted with frost from the breath of his nos- trils, and his lagging footfall sounded crisply. The distance he had that day covered was enough for any human endurance; yet he was neither faint nor hungry; but his feet were frozen into the psay, the snow- shoes, so that he could not run faster than an easy slip and slide.
At last he reached the much-coveted point-- the crown of the last ascent; and when he smelled fire and the savory odor of the jerked buffalo meat, it well-nigh caused him to waver! But he must not fail to follow the custom of untold ages, and give the game scout's wolf call before enter- ing camp.
Accordingly he paused upon the highest point of the ridge and uttered a cry to which the hungry cry of a real wolf would have seemed but a coyote's yelp in comparison! Then it was that the rest of the buffalo hunters knew that their game scout was returning with welcome news; for the unsuccessful scout enters the camp silently.
A second time he gave the call to assure his hearers that their ears did not deceive them. The gray wolves received the news with perfect un- derstanding. It meant food! "Woo-o-o-o! woo-o-o-o!" came from all directions, especially from the opposite ridge. Thus the ghostly, cold, weird night was enlivened with the music from many wild throats.
Down the gradual slope the scout hastened; his footfall was the only sound that broke the stillness after the answers to his call had ceased. As he crossed a little ridge an immense wolf suddenly confronted him, and instead of retreat- ing, calmly sat up and gazed steadfastly into his face.
"Welcome, welcome, friend!" the hunter spoke as he passed.
In the meantime, the hunters at the temporary camp were aroused to a high pitch of excitement. Some turned their buffalo robes and put them on in such a way as to convert themselves into make-believe bison, and began to tread the snow, while others were singing the buffalo song, that their spirits might be charmed and allured within the circle of the camp- fires. The scout, too, was singing his buffalo bull song in a guttural, lowing chant as he neared the hunting camp.Within arrow-shot hepaused again, while the usual cere- monies were enacted for his reception. This done, he was seated with the leaders in a chosen place.
"It was a long run," he said, "but there were no difficulties. I found the first herd directly north of here. The second herd, a great one, is northeast, near Shell Lake. The snow is deep. The buffalo can only follow their leader in their retreat.""Hi, hi, hi!" the hunters exclaimed solemnly in token of gratitude, raising their hands heaven- ward and then pointing them toward the ground.
"Ho, kola! one more round of the buffalo- pipe, then we shall retire, to rise before daybreak for the hunt," advised one of the leaders. Si- lently they partook in turn of the long-stemmed pipe, and one by one, with a dignified "Ho!" departed to their teepees.
The scout betook himself to his little old buf- falo teepee, which he used for winter hunting expeditions. His faithful Shunka, who had been all this time its only occupant, met him at the entrance as dogs alone know how to welcome a lifelong friend. As his master entered he stretched himself in his old-time way, from the tip of his tail to that of his tongue, and finished by curling both ends upward.
"Ho, mita shunka, eat this; for you must be hungry!" So saying, the scout laid before his canine friend the last piece of his dried buf- falo meat. It was the sweetest meal ever eaten by a dog, judging by his long smacking of his lips after he had swallowed it!
The hunting party was soon lost in heavy slumber. Not a sound could be heard save the gnawing of the ponies upon the cottonwood bark, which was provided for them instead of hay in the winter time.
All about Shell Lake the bison were gathered in great herds. The unmistakable signs of the sky had warned them of approaching bad weather. The moon's robe was girdled with the rainbow wampum of heaven. The very music of the snow under their feet had given them warning. On the north side of Shell Lake there were several deep gulches, which were the homes of every wanderer of the plains at such a time at this. When there was a change toward severe weather, all the four-footed people headed for this lake. Here was a heavy growth ofreeds, rushes, and coarse grass, making good shelters, and also springs, which afforded water after the lake was frozen solid. Hence great numbers of the bison had gathered here.
When Wapashaw, the game scout, had rolled himself in his warm buffalo robe and was sound asleep, his faithful companion hunter, the great Esquimaux wolf dog, silently rose and again stretched himself, then stood quiet for a moment as if meditating. It was clear that he knew well what he had planned to do, but was considering how he should do it without arousing any sus- picion of his movements. This is a dog's art, and the night tricks and marauding must always be the joy and secret of his life!
Softly he emerged from the lodge and gave a sweeping glance around to assure him that there were none to spy upon him. Suspiciously he sniffed the air, as if to ascertain whether there could be any danger to his sleeping master while he should be away.
