'Tis queer--most
wonderful queer."
He had no recollection of lying down in the snow. The last he could
definitely recall was his fearful battling with the storm. There was a
sort of hazy remembrance of something that he could not quite
grasp--of having gone to sleep somewhere in a snug, warm bed spread
with white sheets. Try as he would he could not explain his presence
in this Indian wigwam, nor could he tell how long he had been here. It
seemed to him years since the morning he left the tilt to go on the
caribou hunt.
So he lay for a good while trying to account for his strange
surroundings until at last he became drowsy and was on the point of
going to sleep when suddenly the entrance flap of the wigwam opened
and two Indians entered--the most savage looking men Bob had ever
seen--and he felt a thrill of fear as he beheld them. They were very
tall, slender, sinewy fellows, dressed in snug fitting deerskin coats
reaching half way to the knees and decorated with elaborately painted
designs in many colours. Their heads were covered with hairy hoods,
and the ears of the animal from which they were made gave a grotesque
and savage appearance to the wearers. Light fitting buckskin leggings,
fringed on the outer side, encased their legs, and a pair of deerskin
mittens dangled from the ends of a string which was slung around the
neck.
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