Now there was little to do for two or three days, and Bob began for
the first time to understand the true loneliness of his new life. The
wilderness was working its mysterious influence upon him. It seemed a
long, long while since Bill had left him, and he recalled his last
Sunday at Wolf Bight as one recalls an event years after it has
happened. Sometimes he longed passionately for home and human
companionship. At other times he was quite content with his day to day
existence, and almost forgot that the world contained any one else.

Early the next week he visited the traps. In one he found a Canada jay
that had tried to filch the bait. In another a big white rabbit which
had been caught while nibbling the young tops of the spruce boughs
with which the trap was enclosed. A single marten rewarded him. The
pelt was not prime, as it was yet early in the season, but still it
was fairly good and Bob was delighted with it.

The fox traps had not been disturbed, but a fox had been feeding upon
the caribou head and entrails, where they had been left upon the ice,
and one of the traps was taken up and reset here. The others he also
put in order, and returned to the tilt with the rabbit and marten. The
former, boiled with small bits of pork, made a splendid stew, and the
skin was hung to dry, for, with others it could be fashioned into
warm, light slippers to wear inside his moccasins when the colder
weather came.

The marten pelt was removed from the body by splitting it down the
inside of the hind legs to the trunk, and then pulling it down over
the head, turning it inside out in the process. In the tilt were a
number of stretching boards, that Douglas had provided, tapered down