mpossible, while to walk with them is easy and agreeable. They
are not used, after the manner of skates, with a _sliding_, but a
_stepping_ action, and their sole use is to support the wearer on the
top of snow, into which without them he would sink up to the waist.
When we say that they support the wearer on the _top_ of the snow, of
course we do not mean that they literally do not break the surface at
all. But the depth to which they sink is comparatively trifling, and
varies according to the state of the snow and the season of the year.
In the woods they sink frequently about six inches, sometimes more,
sometimes less; while on frozen rivers, where the snow is packed solid
by the action of the wind, they sink only two or three inches, and
sometimes so little as to render it preferable to walk without them
altogether. Snow-shoes are made of a light, strong framework of wood,
varying from three to six feet long by eighteen and twenty inches broad,
tapering to a point before and behind, and turning up in front.
Different tribes of Indians modify the form a little, but in all
essential points they are the same. The framework is filled up with a
netting of deer-skin threads, which unites lightness with great
strength, and permits any snow that may chance to fall upon the netting
to pass through it like a sieve.

On the present occasion, the snow, having recently fallen, was soft, and
the walking, consequently, what is called heavy.

"Come on," shouted the accountant, as he came to a stand for the third
time within half an hour, to await the coming up of poor Hamilton, who,
being rather awkward in snow-shoe walking even in daylight, found it
nearly impossible in the dark.

"Wait a little, please," replied a faint voice in the distance; "I've
got among a quantity of willows, and find it very difficult to get on.
I've been down twice al--"

The sudden cessation of the voice, and a loud crash as of breaking
branches, proved too clearly that our friend had accomplished his third
fall.

"There he goes again," exclaimed Harry Somerville, who came up at the
moment. "I've helped him up once already. We'll never get to North
River at this rate. What _is_ to be done?"

"Let's see what has become of him this time, however," said the
accountant, as he began to retrace his steps. "If I mistake not, he
made rather a heavy plunge that time, judging from the sound."

At that moment the clouds overhead broke, and a moonbeam