he morning, but no tent was there.

"'Tis wonderful strange!" he exclaimed as he stood for a moment in
uncertainty.

He was quite positive it was the right place, and he looked for axe
cuttings, where he had chopped down trees for fire-wood, and found
them. So, this was the place, but where was the tent? He was
mystified. He searched up and down every corner of the grove, but
found no clue. Could the Nascaupees have found his camp and carried
his things away? There was no other solution.

"'Th' Nascaupees has took un. The Nascaupees has sure took un," he
said dejectedly, when he realized that the tent was really gone.

His situation was now desperate. He had no axe with which to build a
temporary shelter or cut wood for a fire. The nearest cover was his
tilt, and to reach it in the blinding, smothering snow-storm seemed
hopeless. Already the cold was eating to his bones and he knew he must
keep moving or freeze to death.

With the wind on his right he turned towards the south in the
gathering darkness. He could not see two yards ahead. Blindly he
plodded along hour after hour. As the time dragged on it seemed to him
that he had been walking for ages. His motion became mechanical. He
was faint from hunger and his mouth parched with thirst. The bitter
wind was reaching to his very vitals in spite of the exertion, and at
last he did not feel it much. He stumbled and fell now and again and
each time it was more difficult to rise.

There was always a strong inclination to lie a little where he fell
and rest, but his benumbed brain told him that to stop walking meant
death, and urged him up again to further action.

Finally the snow ceased but he did not notice it. With his head held
back and staring straight before him at nothing he stalked on throwing
his feet ahead like an automaton. The stars came out one after another
and looked down pitilessly upon the tragedy that was being enacted
before their very eyes.

Many hours had passed; morning was close at hand. The cold grew more
intensely bitter but Bob did not know it. He was quite insensible to
sensations now. Vaguely he imagined himself going home to Wolf Bight.
It was not far--he was almost there. In a little while he would see
his father and mother and Emily--Emily--Emily was sick. He had
something to make her her well--make her well--a silver fox--that
would do it--yes, that would do it--a silver fox would make her
well--dear little Emily.

From the distan