ited with tender birch boughs. Several
rabbits were started in the course of the afternoon, giving assurance
that the deadfalls would yield sufficient food for their needs, though
no results could be expected from them until the following morning.

"Now for supper, Shad, we'll have t' be usin' some shells," he
announced. "Supposin' you tries un. I were goin' t' make a bow an'
arrows t' save th' shells, but they's nothin' t' feather th' arrows
with, an' no string that'd be strong enough for th' bow."

"All right," agreed Shad. "I'll get them;" and within half an hour he
returned with a bag of two fat young rabbits.

Their fire was built before the lean-to, and a very small blaze was
found sufficient to heat it to a cosy warmth. Here they sat and ate
their grilled rabbit and drank their tea, quite as comfortably as they
would have done in their tent or tilt, though during the night one or
the other found it necessary to rise several times to renew the fire.

Bivouacking in this manner was more or less of an ordinary
circumstance in Ungava Bob's life. He looked upon it as the sort of
thing to be expected, and as a matter of course. He felt indeed that
they were very fortunately situated, and for the present he had small
doubt that their imprisonment would prove but a temporary
inconvenience.

The deadfalls yielded them the first night three rabbits; another was
shot. They had quite enough to eat the next day, and Shad took a
brighter view of the matter.

"By Jove!" he laughed, after breakfast, "I wonder what the fellows at
home would say if they should see me now, playing the part of Robinson
Crusoe?" and then he began to sing:

"'Fare thee well, for I must leave thee.
Do not let the parting grieve thee,
And remember that the best of friends must part,
must part.
Adieu, adieu, kind friends, adieu, adieu, adieu,
I can no longer stay with you, stay with you,
I'll hang my harp on a weeping-willow tree,
And may the world go well with thee.'"

But when another morning came, with no sugar remaining for the tea,
and no other food than the now monotonous unsalted rabbit, Shad
rebelled.

"See here, Bob!" he exclaimed irritably, "I can't eat any more rabbit!
It nauseates me to even think of it! We've got to do something."

"We can't help un, now, Shad," answered Bob soothingly. "Rabbit ain't
so bad."

"Not once or twice, or even three times in succession--but eternally
and forever, I can't go it."