Leloo knew that his masters would do one of two things. Either they would follow the caribou and kill them, or they would ignore the trail and hold their own course. He hoped they would decide to follow the caribou. For two or three days he had been living on fish, and Leloo did not like fish and only ate them when there was nothing else to eat. He watched 'Merican Joe return to his dogs, and fairly leaped into the collar as Connie swung him on to the trail. Two bull caribou had gone that way scarcely an hour before. There would be a kill, and plenty of meat.
A quarter of a mile before reaching the timber, Connie, who was in the lead, swerved sharply from the trail and headed toward a point that would carry them to the bush well down wind from the place the caribou had entered. Leloo cheerfully followed for he understood this move, and approved it. Arriving in the scrub, Connie and 'Merican Joe quickly unharnessed the dogs and tied all except the wolf-dog to trees. The boy removed the rifle from the toboggan and threw a shell into the chamber.
"Hadn't we better put a line on Leloo?" he asked as they started in the direction of the trail.
'Merican Joe laughed; "No, Leloo he know 'bout hunt--you watch. You want to see de gran' dog work you jes' shoot wan caribou. Leloo he git' de odder wan, you bet!"
"You don't mean he'll get him unless he's wounded!"
"Sure, he git him--you see! If you shoot wan an' wound him, Leloo git de good wan first, an' den he go git de wounded wan."
They cut the trail at the edge of the muskeg and immediately circled down wind. Leloo trotted quietly beside them, and now and then Connie noted twitching of the delicate nostrils. Suddenly the animal halted, sniffing the air. The ruff bristled slightly, and turning at a right angle to the course, the dog headed directly into the wind.
"He ketch um," said 'Merican Joe. "Close by. Dat ain' no trail scent--dat body scent!"
The spruce gave place to willows, and creeping to the edge of a frozen marshy stream, they saw the two caribou feeding upon the opposite side.
Connie set for two hundred yards and fired. The larger bull reared high in front, pitched sidewise, and after several lurching leaps, fell to the snow. The other headed diagonally across the open at a trot. Beside him Connie heard a low growl, there was a flash of silver, and Leloo shot into the open like an arrow. For several seconds the bull trotted on, unconscious of the great grey shape that was nearly upon him. When he did discover it and broke into a run it was too late. As if hurled from a gun the flying wolf-dog rose from the snow and launched himself at the exposed flank of the fleeing caribou, which was whirled half way around at the impact. Leloo sprang clear as the stricken animal plunged and wobbled on his fast weakening legs. The caribou staggered on a few steps and lay down. And the wolf-dog, after watching him for a moment to make sure he was really done for, trotted over and sniffed at the bull Connie had shot.