There came to him, suddenly, a mental picture of that possible tragedy in the wilderness: the starving man, his last hopeless molding of a golden bullet, the sight of the monster bear, the shot, and after that the despair and suffering and slow death of the man who had fired it.
"I wish he'd got it," he repeated.

"We have plenty of grub." Mukoki was already at work skinning the bear, and Rod and Wabigoon unsheathed their knives and joined him.
"Wound 'bout fi', six month old," said the Indian.

"Shot just before snow." "When there wasn't a berry in the woods for a starving man to eat," added Wabi.

"Well, here's hoping he found something, Rod." An hour later the three gold seekers returned to their canoe laden with the choicest of the bear meat, and the animal's skin, which was immediately stretched between two trees, high up out of the reach of depredating animals.

Rod gazed at it proudly.
"We'll be sure and get it when we come back, won't we ?" "Sure," replied Wabi.
"It will be safe ?" "As safe as though it were at home." "Unless somebody comes along and steals it," added Rod.
Wabi was busy unloading certain necessary articles from the canoe, but he ceased his work to look at Rod.
"Steal!" he cried in astonishment.
Mukoki, too, had heard Rod's remark and was listening.
"Rod," continued Wabigoon quietly, "that is one thing we don't have up here.