g aside his pipe, and drawing the
green blanket over him, while Harry piled several large logs on the
fire.

"Good-night," said the accountant.

"Good-night," replied his companions; and in a few minutes more they
were sound asleep in their snowy camp, while the huge fire continued,
during the greater part of the night, to cast its light on their
slumbering forms.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

PTARMIGAN-HUNTING--HAMILTON'S SHOOTING POWERS SEVERELY TESTED--A
SNOWSTORM.

At about four o'clock on the following morning, the sleepers were
awakened by the cold, which had become very intense. The fire had
burned down to a few embers, which merely emitted enough light to make
darkness visible. Harry, being the most active of the party, was the
first to bestir himself. Raising himself on his elbow, while his teeth
chattered and his limbs trembled with cold, he cast a woebegone and
excessively sleepy glance towards the place where the fire had been;
then he scratched his head slowly; then he stared at the fire again;
then he languidly glanced at Hamilton's sleeping visage; and then he
yawned. The accountant observed all this; for although he appeared to
be buried in the depths of slumber, he was wide awake in reality, and
moreover intensely cold. The accountant, however, was sly--deep, as he
would have said himself--and knew that Harry's active habits would
induce him to rise, on awaking, and rekindle the fire,--an event which
the accountant earnestly desired to see accomplished, but which he as
earnestly resolved should not be performed by _him_. Indeed, it was
with this end in view that he had given vent to the terrific snore which
had aroused his young companion a little sooner than would have
otherwise been the case.

"My eye," exclaimed Harry, in an undertone, "how precious cold it is!"

His eye making no reply to this remark, he arose, and going down on his
hands and knees, began to coax the charcoal into a flame. By dint of
severe blowing, he soon succeeded; and heaping on a quantity of small
twigs, the fitful flame sprang up into a steady blaze. He then threw
several heavy logs on the fire, and in a very short space of time
restored it almost to its original vigour.

"What an abominable row you are kicking up!" growled the accountant;
"why, you would waken the seven sleepers. Oh! mending the fire," he
added, in an altered tone; "ah! I'll excuse you, my boy, since that's
what you're at."

The accountant