It was while examining these that the sharp-eyed Mukoki gave a sudden grunt of surprise.
"Heem shot before--long time ago! Old wound--feel bullet!" Between his fingers he was working the loose hide back of the foreleg.
The scar of an old wound was plainly visible, and both Rod and Wabi could feel the ball under the skin.

There is something that fascinates the big game hunter in this discovery of an old wound in his quarry, and especially in the vast solitudes of the North, where hunters are few and widely scattered.

It brings with it a vivid picture of what happened long ago, the excitement of some other chase, the well-directed shot, and at last the escape of the game.

And so it was now.

The heads of Rod and Wabigoon hung close over Mukoki's shoulders while the old Indian dug out the bullet with his knife.