After an hour's rest they hit the trail again and never relaxed their
speed for a moment until sunset. Then they sought the shelter of the
spruce woods behind the river bank, and in a convenient spot for a
fire cleared a circular space, several feet in circumference, by
shovelling the snow back with their snow-shoes, forming a high bank
around their bivouac as a protection from the wind, should it rise. At
one side a fire was built, and in front of the fire a thick bed of
boughs spread. While the others were engaged in these preparations Bob
and Sishetakushin cut a supply of wood for the night.
It was quite dark before they all settled themselves around the fire
for supper. Two frying pans were now produced, and from a haunch of
venison, frozen as hard as a block of wood, thin chips were cut with
an axe, and with ample pieces of fat were soon sizzling in the pans
and filling the air with an appetizing odour, and in spite of the
bleak surroundings the place assumed a degree of comfort and
hospitality.
After supper the Indians squatted around the fire on deerskins spread
upon the boughs, smoking their pipes and telling stories, while Bob
reclined upon the soft robes that Manikawan had thoughtfully provided
him with, watching the light play over their dark faces framed in long
black hair, and thought of the Indian girl and wondered if he was
always to live amongst them, and if he would ever become accustomed to
their wild, rude life.
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