being unaccustomed to
that kind of travel, and he never forgot the sense of relief and
comfort which he found in the snow house, or the droll talk of Solomon.

"You're havin' more trouble to git married than a Mingo brave," Solomon
said to Jack. "'Mongst them, when a boy an' gal want to git married,
both fam'lies have to go an' take a sweat together. They heat a lot o'
rocks an' roll 'em into a pen made o' sticks put in crotches an'
covered over with skins an' blankets. The hot rocks turn it into a
kind o' oven. They all crawl in thar an' begin to sweat an' hoot an'
holler. You kin hear 'em a mile off. It's a reg'lar hootin' match.
I'd call it a kind o' camp meetin'. When they holler it means that the
devil is lettin' go. They're bein' purified. It kind o' seasons 'em
so they kin stan' the heat o' a family quarrel. When Injuns have had
the grease sweat out of 'em, they know suthin' has happened. The
women'll talk fer years 'bout the weddin' sweat."

Now and then, as he talked, Solomon arose to put more wood on the fire
and keep "the jerk sizzling." Just before he lay down for the night,
he took some hard wood coals and stored them in a griddle full of hot
ashes so as to save tinder in the morning.

They were awakened in the night by the ravening of a pack of wolves at
the carcass of the slain moose, which lay within twenty rods of the
snow camp. They were growling and snapping as they tore the meat from
the bones. Solomon rose and drew on his boots.

"Cat's blood an' gunpowder! I thought the smell o' the jerk would
bring 'em," Solomon whispered. "Say, they's quite a passel o' wolves
thar--you hear to me. No, I ain't skeered o' them thar whelps, but
it's ag'in' my principles to go to sleep if they's nuthin' but air
'twixt me an' them. They might be jest fools 'nough to think I were
good eatin'; which I ain't. I guess it's 'bout time to take keer o'
this 'ere jerk an' start up a fire. I won't give them loafers nothin'
but hell, if they come 'round here--not a crumb."

Solomon went to work with his ax in the moonlight, while Jack kindled
up the fire.

"We don't need to tear off our buttons hurryin'," said the former, as
he flung down a dead spruce by the fireside and began chopping it into
sticks. "They won't be lookin' for more fodder till they've picked the
bones o' that 'ere moose. Don't make it a big fire er you'll melt our
roof. We jest need a little belt o' blaze eround our front. Our re