The third caribou had been twice turned upon its spit, and Mukee and
his Crees paused in waiting silence, their hooked poles gripping the
long bar that rested horizontally across the arms of two stout posts
driven into the earth close to the fire. At this signal there was a
final outburst from the waiting horde, and then a momentary silence
fell as Cummins sprang upon one of the bread-boxes and waved his arms
frantically above his head. "Now!" he shouted. "Now! 'Ze cariboo-oo-
oo--'"

With eyes flashing with excitement, Jan stood before Cummins, and his
violin shrieked out the wild tune to a still wilder response of
untamed voices.

"Now!" yelled Cummins again.

The wilderness song, that was known from Athabasca to Hudson's Bay,
burst forth in a savage enthusiasm that reached to the skies:

"Oh, ze cariboo-oo-oo, ze cariboo-oo-oo,
He roas' on high,
Jes' under ze sky,
Ze beeg white cariboo-oo-oo!"

Cummins drew his revolver and blazed fiercely into the air.

"Now!" he shrieked.

"Oh, ze cariboo-oo-oo, ze cariboo-oo-oo,
He brown 'n' juice 'n' sweet!
Ze cariboo-oo-oo, he ver' polite--