to believe that the Eskimo who had carried off his child belonged to the
tribe which had recently been pursued by his compatriots, and that they
probably dwelt among the islands, some of which were seen, and others
known to exist, off the Arctic coast opposite the mouth of the Greygoose
River. Moreover, a faint hope, that he would have found it difficult to
define, was aroused by the fact that the kidnapper of his child had
formerly been the rescuer of his wife.

As we have seen, his first attempt to go off in his canoe in search of
Adolay was frustrated by young ice forming on the sea, and for a
considerable time afterwards the Arctic Sea was impassable to any kind
of craft. Now that the sea had set fast, however, his difficulty was
removed, and he resolved to undertake the journey on foot.

Well he knew that no man of his tribe, not even Mozwa, would agree to
accompany him on such a wild-goose chase. He therefore not only
refrained from making to any of them the proposal, but avoided any
allusion to his intentions. Knowing also that Isquay was gifted with
such an intense desire for sympathy that she could not resist
communicating whatever she knew to a few of her dearest friends--in the
strictest confidence--he did not mention the matter to her until all his
preparations were completed. Then he told her.

Like a good submissive squaw, she made no objection, though the
expression of her face showed that she felt much anxiety.

"Who goes with you?" she asked.

"No one."

"Is it wise to go alone?" she ventured to suggest.

"It may not be wise, but no one would go with me, I know, and I am
determined to find Adolay!"

"How will you travel?"

"With a sledge and four dogs. That will enable me to carry food enough
for a long journey. I will take my gun, of course."

"But what will you do for fire?" objected Isquay; "there are no woods on
the ice."

"I will do without it."

The poor woman was so amazed at this reply that she gave up further
questioning.

"You have plenty strong moccasins ready, have you not?" asked Nazinred,
"and pemmican, and dried meat?"

"Yes, plenty. And your snow-shoes are mended, and very strong."

"That is well. I will take them, but I do not expect to use them much,
for the snow on the Great Salt Lake is not soft like the snow in the
woods."

It was afternoon when this conversation was held, and very dark, for the
sun had by that time ceased to rise much above the horiz