42 WINTER TRAILS

arrived. The meat was unrolled from the frozen
sack-cloth. Great chunks of it were cut off and
thrown to the dogs. The blood showed darkly on
the snow in the half-light.

Inside the tent there was much activity. An
assortment of wet socks, duffles and moccasins la
on the boughs close to the stove, and dry foot-wear
was being pulled out from pack-sacks. Someone
washed his face; someone put more snow on the
stove to melt. Dried spuds were soaking in a large
enamel mug, and a frying-pan stood ready to
receive moose-steaks,

After supper, pipes were filled. There was talk
of the distance covered and of the journey ahead,
and at last we unrolled our eiderdowns and
stretched ourselves out side by side, like sardines
in a tin, to sleep.

There was a distant barking of coyotes, but our
dogs were too tired and too well fed to answer.
Moonlight scattered through the trees and made
patterns on the tent. The fire died gradually, and
the air nipped our ears until each of us, in a final
gesture, buried his head in his eiderdown and
plunged into unconsciousness.

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