George Tracy Marsh

“ Fleur burst into a frenzy of yelping. Seizing her, Marcel calmed her into silence. Then, after an interval, the cry of the pack slowly faded, and shortly the man’s straining ears caught no sound save the fretting of the wind through the spruce.
Wolves he had often heard, singly and in groups of four or five, but the hunting howl which had been brought to him through the hills by the wind was not the clamor of a handful of timber wolves, but the blood chorus of a pack. None but the white wolves which far to the north hung on the flanks of the caribou herds could raise such a hunting cry. ”

“ During November and December, when pelts are at their best, the men made a harvest at their traps. The caribou were still on the barrens, feeding on the white moss from which they scraped the snow with their large, round-toed hoofs, and the rabbit snares furnished stew whenever the trappers craved a change from caribou steaks, though no Indian will eat rabbit as a regular diet while he can get red meat.
During these weeks, learning the ways of the winter forest after a puppyhood on the coast, as Fleur grew in bulk and strength, so her affection deepened for Jean Marcel. ”

“ Snowshoe rabbits were plentiful, and wherever their runways led in and out of the scrub spruce and fir covers, those furred assassins of the forest, the fox and the lynx, the fisher and the marten, were sure to make their hunting grounds. ”