As the little party turned down upon the river ice, he
looked back once and saw her standing near the wigwam, in the bright
moonlight, her slender figure outlined against the snow, and he waved
his hand to her.
He never knew that for many days afterwards, when the dusk of evening
came, she stole alone out of the wigwam and down the trail where he
had disappeared to watch for his return, nor how lonely she was and
how she brooded over his loss when she knew that she should never see
her White Brother of the Snow again.
XVII
STILL FARTHER NORTH
Bob and the Indians travelled in single file, with Mookoomahn leading,
and kept to the wide, smooth pathway that marked the place where the
river lay imprisoned beneath ice a fathom thick. The wind had swept
away the loose snow and beaten down that which remained into a hard
and compact mass upon the frozen river bed, making snow-shoeing here
much easier than in the spruce forest that lay behind the willow brush
along the banks. The Indians walked with the long rapid stride that is
peculiar to them, and which the white man finds hard to simulate, and
good traveller though he was Bob had to adopt a half run to keep their
pace. They drew but two lightly loaded toboggans, and unencumbered by
the wigwam and other heavy camp equipment, and with no trailing squaws
to hamper their speed, an even, unbroken gait was maintained as mile
after mile slipped behind them.
Pages:
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169