Mystery at Shildii Rock. Robert Feagan

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      Robin nodded and glanced back at the mountains. He had been anxious to tell his friend about what he had seen, but now he wondered if even Wayne would believe him.

      "Oh, man, Robin, I almost forgot. I shot my first moose. It was great!"

      Robin's story would have to wait, but he didn't mind. He and Wayne had both taken their first caribou the year before, and Robin was envious that Wayne had now brought down a moose.

      "It was cool. It was kind of fluky, too, but it was cool. I brought it down with one shot. My dad says I hit it just perfect, and he never saw anyone do that on their first try. But, jeez, was it a lot of work to move and butcher! It was huge!"

      Robin sat back and listened. When Wayne got excited, there was no stopping him. All a guy could do was get comfortable and listen.

      "The good thing is, it wasn't far from camp. We pretty much left it where it was and butchered up the meat. Man, there's a lot! I think my dad's giving you guys some. I know he took some to Grandpa last night, and the rest will last us the best part of winter. It's pretty neat because Dad didn't even get a moose this fall. The thing was big, man! Did I tell you that?" Wayne got up and raised his arms above his head. "It stood at least this high. I betcha it weighed a couple thousand pounds, too. I —"

      "I betcha by tomorrow that moose will weigh 5,000 pounds." Johnny Reindeer laughed as he approached the boys. He was a handsome man with an athletic build. His eyes were the deepest brown, and they shone with a sense of humour and a love of all things amusing in life.

      Robin jumped up from the steps. "Hi, Johnny!"

      Johnny chuckled. "Hey there, Redbreast!" He threw his arms around both boys and gave them a squeeze. "Wait a second. Something isn't right here." Johnny took a step back and surveyed the two boys, hands on his hips. "Well, well, well. Somebody isn't the king of the hill anymore. Mr. Wayne, I hereby change your name to Shorty!"

      The two boys took the first good look at each other. Johnny was right. Robin had always been a touch shorter than Wayne. There was no mistake, however. Robin now gazed down into Wayne's eyes. Robin puffed out his chest and began to laugh.

      "Aw, get lost!" Wayne said, pretending he was mad. "I'm just temporarily shorter 'cause Dad kept pushing my head down in the bush trying to get me to hide from the moose."

      Johnny started to laugh and slapped his knee. The two boys never ceased to amaze him. So much like brothers yet so different. Robin with his sandy hair, fair skin, and freckles. Wayne with his jet-black hair and dark complexion. Robin with his wild imagination, and Wayne the willing accomplice, so anxious to follow his friend into the middle of trouble.

      "My stomach can't handle any more of this," Johnny said, holding his sides. "Wayne, I need your help now, so say goodbye. You can come back after if it's not too late."

      "Aw, Dad!"

      "No ‘Aw, Dad.' I promised your grandma we'd drop off some more moose and fish, then we have to put the rest of the meat in the icehouse."

      Robin waved halfheartedly in Wayne's direction as he followed his father back towards their house. "Well, Dana, it's just you and me again." Robin sighed. "Did I tell you how I almost had to take on a moose myself? Well, I did, and it was none of that easy stuff with a gun. All I had was a boat paddle to bring the big guy down with."

      Dana flashed her knowing doggie smile and lay down at Robin's feet. All she could do was enjoy the human company and listen.

       Chapter 3

      When Robin woke the next morning, he could smell the fresh snow. It was the smell of a world born anew in a clean blanket of whiteness. He loved the first days of winter — crisp, not too cold, bright, and clear before the sullen darkness of winter's heart settled over the land. This early snow would melt, but it lightened Robin's spirits with thoughts of dog sled rides, and snow forts soon to be built and captured. A knock on his bedroom door, and a single sentence from his mother, replaced his excitement with dread. "Time to get up for school, Robin!"

      School! Back to school. A new school year. No matter how Robin said it, he couldn't get excited. He was a good student, and though he would never admit it to Wayne, he actually enjoyed school. There was, however, one big problem. He was going into grade seven. Mr. Debark, the toughest teacher in the school, taught grade seven. That man gave more homework, more detentions, and more headaches to his students than all the other teachers put together! At least that was what all the other kids said. Wayne's sister had told the boys that anyone in Mr. Debark's class could expect to have homework every night. Now that was depressing!

      From the very start it seemed as if Robin was destined to have a bad day. At breakfast he tipped his bowl of cereal into his lap and had to change not only his shirt but his new school pants, as well. Then, to make matters worse, when he stopped by to pick up Wayne on the way to school, his friend had already left. Wayne's mother had sent him to drop something off at his granny's before school. Now Robin would have no choice but to walk to school by himself.

      Robin left the compound and absentmindedly wove his way through town towards school. He lifted his feet methodically and watched them fall one ahead of the other on the wooden sidewalk, which was elevated to keep shoes and boots above the dirt and gravel that became a never-ending sea of mud in the spring and fall with fresh or melting snow.

      Although it was early, many people were moving about, readying themselves for winter. Most of the houses in Fort McPherson were constructed of logs. The annual fall ritual of "mudding" had begun. Throughout the warmer summer months, cracks would appear between the logs. A muddy paste was prepared in fall and administered to seal structures for warmth in winter.

      River scows had to be put up and sleds were being readied for travel in the cold months ahead. Most people in Fort McPherson still used dog teams, though the Hudson's Bay store had brought in several new snowmobiles. The snowmobiles were noisy, and when the RCMP tried one last winter, Robin's father had found it unreliable. It had broken down often and needed plenty of care and attention. Even though they had to be trained and fed, dogs were far more dependable.

      The musky scent of smoke carried on the light breeze, evidence of wood stoves freshly lighted to chase away the early-morning chill from the log homes as people got organized for the day. The combination of fresh snow and morning sunshine made Robin squint. The snow glistened on the ground in all directions, its tiny crystals reflecting like diamonds in the sun. Diamonds! That was it! Someone had discovered diamonds at Shildii Rock and didn't want anyone else to get close. The culprits were going to smuggle them down the Peel to the Mackenzie River and then southward. Robin and Wayne would have to stop them. It would be dangerous work, but they could handle it. Agents Harris and Reindeer with their faithful attack dog Dana. Fearlessly, they would —

      "Hey, Redbreast! Robin!"

      Robin looked up, unsure of where his walk had taken him. He had been staring at his feet as he trudged, deep in thoughts and dreams.

      "I'm over here, son. Welcome back to earth. What planet were you on?"

      Robin grinned sheepishly and strode over to where Chief John Kay stood beside the sled he was working on.

      "First day of school, right?" the Gwich'in chief said.

      "Yeah."

      "Let's see, grade seven, Mr. Debark?"

      "Yeah."

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