When Pierrot smiled at her like that, and began with "Tomorrow," it
always meant that she might go with him on the adventure he was
contemplating.


Still another day later, at the end of the afternoon, Baree crossed the
Gray Loon on a bridge of driftwood that had wedged between two trees.
This was to the north. Just beyond the driftwood bridge there was a
small clearing, and on the edge of it Baree paused to enjoy the last of
the setting sun. As he stood motionless and listening, his tail
drooping low, his ears alert, his sharp-pointed nose sniffing the new
country to the north, there was not a pair of eyes in the forest that
would not have taken him for a young wolf.

From behind a clump of young balsams, a hundred yards away, Pierrot and
Nepeese had watched him come over the driftwood bridge. Now was the
time, and Pierrot leveled his rifle. It was not until then that Nepeese
touched his arm softly. Her breath came a little excitedly as she
whispered:

"Nootawe, let me shoot. I can kill him!"

With a low chuckle Pierrot gave the gun to her. He counted the whelp as
already dead. For Nepeese, at that distance, could send a bullet into
an inch square nine times out of ten. And Nepeese, aiming carefully at
Baree, pressed steadily with her brown forefinger upon the trigger.



CHAPTER 5