margin of the lake, lay down and slept. Let us go back to
the woman. The dog had led her a long chase, and it was very late when
she got back to the spot where she had left her husband-he was gone, but
his tracks in the snow were visible, and she hurried after him. Suddenly
the wind arose, the light powdery snow began to drift in clouds over the
surface of the plain, the track was speedily obliterated and night was
coming on. Still she followed the general direction of the footprints,
and at last came to the border of the same lake by which her husband was
lying asleep, but it was at some distance from the spot. She too was
tired, and, making a fire in a thicket, she lay down to sleep. About the
middle of the night the man awoke and set out again on his solitary way.
It snowed all night: the morning came, the day passed, the night closed
again--again the morning dawned, and still he wandered on. For three days
he travelled thus over an immense plain, without food, and having only
the snow wherewith to quench his thirst. On the third day he walked into
a thicket; he felt around, and found that the timber was dry; with his
axe he cut down some wood, then struck a light and made a fire. When the
fire was alight he laid his gun down beside it, and went to gather more
wood; but fate was heavy against him, he was unable to find the fire
which he had lighted, and by which he had left his gun. He made another
fire, and again the same result. A third time he set to work; and now, to
make certain of his getting back, again, he tied a line to a tree close
beside his fire, and then set on to gather wood. Again the fates smote
him-his line broke, and he had to grope his way in weary search. But
chance, tired of ill-treating him so long, now stood his friend--he found
the first fire, and with it his gun and blanket. Again he travelled on,
but now his strength began to fail, and for the first time his heart sank
within him--blind, starving, and utterly lost, there seemed no hope on
earth for him. "Then," he said, "I thought of the Great Spirit of whom
the white men speak, and I called aloud to him, 'O Great Spirit! have
pity on me, and show me the path! and as I said it I heard close by the
calling of a crow, and I knew that the road was not far off. I followed
the call; soon I felt the crusted snow of a path under my feet, and the
next day reached the fort." He had been five days without food.

No man can starve better than the Indian