He had seven scalps in his possession when he turned back over the home trail.
Beside the remains of the old bull Wabi paused again.

He knew that the Indians frequently preserved moose and caribou heads through the winter by keeping them frozen, and the head at his feet was a prize worth some thought.

But how could he keep it preserved until their return, months later?
He could not suspend it from the limb of a tree, as was the custom when in camp, for it would either be stolen by some passing hunter or spoiled by the first warm days of spring.

Suddenly an idea came to him.

Why could it not be preserved in what white hunters called an "Indian ice-box"?
In an instant he was acting upon this inspiration.
It was not a small task to drag the huge head to the shelter of the tamaracks, where, safely hidden from view, he made a closer examination.
The head was gnawed considerably by the wolves, but Wabi had seen worse ones skillfully repaired by the Indians at the Post.
Under a dense growth of spruce, where the rays of the sun seldom penetrated, the Indian boy set to work with his belt-ax.