They had stopped at the place where they had had the encounter with the moose, but to their surprise, the animal had disappeared. They had already told Rex about it and he had expressed a great desire to see the animal. “Don’t it beat the Dutch?” Jack said as he glanced about. “How could anyone have taken him away without leaving tracks?” “That part of it is easy,” Bob replied. “If they did it the next morning, while the snow was frozen hard, their tracks wouldn’t amount to much and that rain would have wiped out all trace of them. It’s who did it that’s got me guessing. You see,” he continued turning to Rex, “I broke the law when I shot that fellow and if the game warden has found him before I have a chance to report and explain the circumstances, it might go hard with me. It’s a pretty serious thing up here to shoot a moose out of season.” “I suppose so,” Rex agreed. “But I imagine your word would be taken all right.” “I sure hope so,” Bob said. “But that don’t help explain the mystery.” “Probably some Indians or half-breeds found the body and carried it off,” Jack suggested. “Likely enough,” Bob agreed. “Are there any Indians around here?” Rex asked. “A few,” Bob replied. “You know there’s a tribe that live over at Oldtown and sometimes they get over as far as Moosehead Lake, but not often.” “But there’s plenty of breeds,” Jack declared. “Well, I guess it’s no use standing here talking about it any longer,” Bob declared. “Whoever got it has made a good get-away, and if we’re going to make the Carry tonight we’ve got to be moving.” They had made a few more miles when, suddenly, Bob, who was in the lead, stopped and held up his hand. “Listen,” he said. Faintly the sound came to their ears. “Wolves?” Rex asked. “No, dogs,” Jack replied. “I guess somebody’s coming this way with a dog team.” As they started on again it was soon evident that the dogs were approaching rapidly as the sound of the yelping grew louder. Soon, peering through the trees, Bob caught sight of them. Four huskies were drawing a sled and they were accompanied by four breeds, big burly fellows with villainous appearing faces. As the two parties met, one of the breeds ordered the dogs to halt. The sled was heavily loaded as they could see by its tracks in the snow, but with what they could only guess as it was completely covered with canvass. “How.” One of the breeds, a man who stood easily six feet two, greeted them. “Good morning,” Bob replied pleasantly. “Where you come from, eh?” “From Lake Musquacook.” “Where you go?” “We’re going down to Moosehead,” Bob replied. For a moment the man hesitated. “You meet man up dar?” he asked. “No, we have seen no one since we left the lake.” “Mebby you tell lie, oui,” the man hissed with an insolent leer. Bob shrugged his shoulders. “I have told you the truth,” he declared. “Whether or not you choose to believe it is up to you,” and he started to go on motioning Rex and Jack to follow him.