old, because of the wide chinks between the logs. It was hardly better
than sleeping under the swaying spruces. When he essayed to stop up the
crack, a task by no means easy, considering the lack of material--Rea
laughed his short "Ho! Ho!" and stopped him with the word, "Wait."
Every morning the green ice extended farther out into the lake; the sun
paled dim and dimmer; the nights grew colder. On October 8th the
thermometer registered several degrees below zero; it fell a little
more next night and continued to fall.

"Ho! Ho!" cried Rea. "She's struck the toboggan, an' presently she'll
commence to slide. Come on, Buff, we've work to do."

He caught up a bucket, made for their hole in the ice, rebroke a
six-inch layer, the freeze of a few hours, and filling his bucket,
returned to the cabin. Jones had no inkling of the trapper's intention,
and wonderingly he soused his bucket full of water and followed.

By the time he had reached the cabin, a matter of some thirty or forty
good paces, the water no longer splashed from his pail, for a thin film
of ice prevented. Rea stood fifteen feet from the cabin, his back to
the wind, and threw the water. Some of it froze in the air, most of it
froze on the logs. The simple plan of the trapper to incase the cabin
with ice was easily divined. All day the men worked, easing only when
the cabin resembled a glistening mound. It had not a sharp corner nor a
crevice. Inside it was warm and snug, and as light as when the chinks
were open.

A slight moderation of the weather brought the snow. Such snow! A
blinding white flutter of grey flakes, as large as feathers! All day
they rustle softly; all night they swirled, sweeping, seeping brushing
against the cabin. "Ho! Ho!" roared Rea. "'Tis good; let her snow, an'
the reindeer will migrate. We'll have fresh meat." The sun shone again,
but not brightly. A nipping wind came down out of the frigid north and
crusted the snows. The third night following the storm, when the
hunters lay snug under their blankets, a commotion outside aroused them.

"Indians," said Rea, "come north for reindeer."

Half the night, shouting and yelling, barking dogs, hauling of sleds
and cracking of dried-skin tepees murdered sleep for those in the
cabin. In the morning the level plain and edge of the forest held an
Indian village. Caribou hides, strung on forked poles, constituted
tent-like habitations with no distinguishable doors. Fires smoked in
the holes in