QUES' RAFT STORY--MY UNCLE AND
I START ON OUR RETURN--WE ARE ATTACKED BY A FIERCE PACK OF WOLVES, AND
ARE SAVED BY KEPENAU AND HIS MEN--MIKE LAFFAN IN A DIFFICULTY--WE RESCUE
HIM--ASHATEA, KEPENAU'S DAUGHTER--MY VISIT TO LILY--MR. AND MRS.
CLAXTON--DORA AND REUBEN--REUBEN VISITS OUR HUT--THE MARTEN AND
PORCUPINE--AN OPOSSUM-HUNT.

The snow had for some time been falling lightly, but the wind which had
arisen blew it off the ice, and thus it did not impede our progress; but
that same wind, which was now by a turn of the river brought directly
ahead of us, soon increased in strength, and drove the particles of
snow, sharp as needles, into our faces. Indeed, the cold every instant
became more intense, while the snow fell more thickly.

"Faix, and it's moighty loike a shower of penknives, mixed with needles
and pins!" cried Mike. "It's a hard matther to keep the eyes open.
What will we be afther doing, Mr Mark, if it gets worse?"

"We'll go on till it does get worse," said Uncle Mark. "It would not do
to turn back now."

Mike said no more, but, bending down his head, worked away manfully with
might and main.

I did my best to keep up, but I may say that seldom have I endured such
suffering. At last I felt that I could stand it no longer; so I
proposed to my uncle that we should make for the shore, and there build
a hut, light a fire, and wait till the storm was over.

He was, however, bent upon going on. "We should be half-frozen before
we could get up a wigwam," he answered.

Just then I heard a voice hailing us in gruff tones, and I guessed it
was that of an Indian; but we had no reason to dread the Indians of
these parts. As we looked about to see from whence it proceeded, I
caught sight of the tops of two or three wigwams just peeping out from a
cedar-bush at a little distance from the shore.

"Friends, come here!" exclaimed some one, and we observed an Indian
making towards us; whereupon we turned round and skated up to him.

"Ah, friends! I know you," he said. "You cannot face the storm, which
will soon blow stronger still. Come to my wigwam, where you shall have
shelter till it has passed by."

As he spoke I recognised my old friend Kepenau, whom I had not seen
since we had come to our present location. I had so grown, too, that he
did not at first recognise me.

Having taken off our skates, we followed him to his camp, where he
introduced us to several other Indians and their squaws, among who