t night we had no other
shelter than our blankets, and we could not keep a fire because the
spruce burned too fast and threw too many coals. For a long time
we shivered, curled up on our snowshoes; then fell heavily asleep,
so that even the dogs fighting over us did not awaken us. Two or
three times in the night we boiled tea. We had to thaw our
moccasins each morning by thrusting them inside our shirts. Even
the Indians were shivering and saying, 'Ed-sa, yazzi ed-sa'--'it is
cold, very cold.' And when we came to Rae it was not much better.
A roaring fire in the fireplace could not prevent the ink from
freezing on the pen. This went on for five months."

Thus he spoke, as one who says common things. He said little of
himself, but as he went on in short, curt sentences the picture
grew more distinct, and to Virginia the man became more and more
prominent in it. She saw the dying and exhausted dogs, the
frost-rimed, weary men; she heard the quick _crunch, crunch,
crunch_ of the snow-shoes hurrying ahead to break the trail; she
felt the cruel torture of the _mal de raquette_, the shrivelling
bite of the frost, the pain of snow blindness, the hunger that yet
could not stomach the frozen fish nor the hairy, black caribou
meat. One thing she could not conceive--the indomitable spirit of
the men. She glanced timidly up at her companion's face.

"The Company is a cruel master," she sighed at last, standing
upright, then leaning against the carriage of the gun. He let her
go without protest, almost without thought, it seemed.

"But not mine," said he.

She exclaimed, in astonishment, "Are you not of the Company?"

"I am no man's man but my own," he answered, simply.

"Then why do you stay in this dreadful North?" she asked.

"Because I love it. It is my life. I want to go where no man has
set foot before me; I want to stand alone under the sky; I want to
show myself that nothing is too big for me--no difficulty, no
hardship--nothing!"

"Why did you come here, then? Here at least are forests so that
you can keep warm. This is not so dreadful as the Coppermine, and
the country of the Yellow Knives. Did you come here to try _la
Longue Traverse_ of which you spoke to-day?"

He fell suddenly sombre, biting in reflection at his lip.

"No--yes--why not?" he said, at length.

"I know you will come out of it safely," said she; "I feel it. You
are brave and used to travel. Won't you tell me about it?"

He