to this that his thick
winter garb becomes oppressive in mild weather, and you will perceive
that Macnab's duties as beater of the track were severe.

At first their progress was very slow, for it was through the thick
woods, where fallen trees and bushes obstructed them as well as deep
snow, but towards noon they came out on a more open country--in summer a
swamp; at that time a frozen plain--and the travelling improved, for a
slight breeze had already begun to make an impression on the new snow in
exposed places.

"Now, Big Otter," said Macnab, coming to a halt, "we'll have some grub
here, and then you will take a turn in front."

The Indian was ready for anything. So were the dogs--especially for
"grub." Indeed it was obvious that they understood the meaning of that
word, for when Macnab uttered it they wagged their tails and cocked
their ears.

It was a cold dinner, if I may describe the meal by that name. The work
was too hard, and the daylight in which to do it too brief, to admit of
needless delay. A frozen bird thrown to each of the dogs, and a junk of
equally frozen pemmican cut out of the bag with a hatchet for the
travellers, formed the repast. The latter ate it sitting on a
snow-wreath. They, however, had the advantage of their canine friends
in the matter of hard biscuits, of which they each consumed two as a
sort of cold pudding. Then they resumed the march and plodded heavily
on till near sunset, when they again selected a suitable spot in the
woods, cleared away the snow, and encamped as before.

"It's hard work," exclaimed Macnab with a Celtic sigh, as he sipped his
tea that night in the mellow light of the log fire.

"Waugh! Big Otter has seen harder work," returned the Indian.

"No doubt ye have, an' so have I," returned Macnab; "I mind, once, when
away on a snow-shoe trip on the St. Lawrence gulf, bein' caught by a
regular thaw when the snow turned into slush, an' liftin' the snow-shoes
was like to tear one's legs out o' their sockets, not to mention the
skinning of your toes wi' the snow-shoe lines, an' the wet turning your
moccasins into something like tripe. Yes, it might be worse, as you
say. Now, boy, I'll turn in."

The next day travelling was no better, and on the next again it became
worse, for although the temperature was still below the freezing point,
snow continued to fall all day as well as all night, so that our
travellers and their dogs became like animated snowball