IN THE NORTH 49

frozen, that a blizzard was approaching and that the
snow was too deep even for them to proceed, he started
alone and supperless in the darkness of a winter night.

Unused as he then was to this so fatiguing mode of
travelling, he soon realized that he should have
listened to the pleadings of his companions and made
camp, instead of doing what was little short of tempting
Providence. Each step he took would fill his foot-
gear with snow, which would make it a task for him
to stride on.

Then a hurricane, a terrible blizzard, arose, which
would have caused him to lose his bearings had he not
been careful to follow closely the shore line. The
wind would howl piteously through the pines, the
rocks split with loud reports through the intensity of
the cold, and the squalls whipped the poor wayfarer’s
face with fine falling snow, until he was forced to avow
himself vanquished by the elements. He was now
reduced to such a state of helplessness that he had to
use his hands to lift up his feet and trudge on. Though
in great danger of freezing if he stopped one moment in
the midst of the storm, he had to take off his snowshoes
and lie thereon, expecting death (which would have
infallibly come to him if he had then fallen asleep)
or the help of the Almighty.

The latter came to him in the shape of a path hidden
under the recent snow which he was lucky enough
to find. After having rested a while, he followed it
very cautiously until he reached the hut for which he
was making. The inmates were reciting their morning
prayers when he arrived. His chin and some of his
fingers were frost-bitten; but he did reach his head-
quarters at the other end of the lake that Saturday
evening. And he felt happy, though the terrible