captives were fairly encased under a covering of
ice. Higher and higher it grew, until it was up to their chests. They
could not move.

"Fifty degrees below zero," murmured Mr. Baxter as he looked at the
thermometer. "And it will get lower. I am afraid I must give in--for the
sake of the boys."

He looked over at his son and Fred. They had not spoken nor moved in
some time. The cold was making them numb. Even Mr. Baxter, hardened as
he was, felt a deadly calm stealing over him.

An hour passed. The thermometer had gone down five degrees more. But the
cold was now so intense that a few degrees more or less made no seeming
difference. Burrowing their heads down as far as they could in their fur
hoods, the captives tried not to think about it. This was easy for poor
Johnson, as he was out of his mind from the cruel blow Callack had dealt
him.

The snow came down thicker and faster. It was now almost over the heads
of the captives. The thermometer could no longer be seen. It was getting
darker as the Northern Lights died away.

More keen grew the pangs of hunger, made acute by the great cold. Fred
thought he would have to give up, and ask Mr. Baxter to reveal the
secret of the gold that they might escape their terrible fate.

But it was doubtful now if even a shout would have attracted Callack's
attention. He was in his tent with some of the Indians. The others were
also under shelter.

But now the snow, which had seemed to add to their discomforts, proved
beneficial to them. As it drifted over their heads while they sat on the
ground, bound to the stakes, it shut out some of the terrible cold.
Soon there stole over the captives a feeling of delicious warmth. It was
not the dangerous sensation that precedes death by freezing, but real
warmth; the warmth from their bodies, retained beneath the covering of
closely-packed snow.

Though they were completely covered, it was porous enough for them to
breathe through, or they might have been suffocated to death.

They could only hear each other now with difficulty, as the snow muffled
their voices. Mr. Baxter called to the boys occasionally to learn if
they were still alive.

"I'm feeling all right," answered Fred once. "Only I wish Holfax would
hurry."

"Wait until morning," advised Mr. Baxter hopefully. "I think he will
come then."

Somehow the long night passed. They could tell when the sun arose
slightly above the horizon by the increased light that shone thro