eezing.

"I thought I might get a chance to collar the axe," said Maurice, with
chattering teeth. "But they've carried it inside. They've taken in
the rest of the venison, too, and they've even got the dogs inside the
shanty. Afraid we'd shoot them, I suppose."

Maurice tramped off to aid Peter in his search, while Fred stamped
about in the trees. No one was in sight about the hut, but after a
long time one of the French Canadians came out and went down to the
river with a pail for water.

It made Fred's blood boil to think of the warmth and comfort in that
cabin, from which they had been so treacherously turned out. He
puzzled his brain to devise some plan of retaliation, but he could
think of nothing except setting fire to the place, and that would
destroy the supplies of friend and foe alike.

His feet grew numb, and he adopted Maurice's plan of running round in a
circle. He fancied that his ears and nose were frosted, and he rubbed
them with snow. A long time passed; he wondered what had become of his
companions. It was nearly noon when Maurice hurried up with his face
full of consternation. "The fire is out," he said, "and we've used the
last match!"

CHAPTER VI

At this crushing news, Fred left his post and went back with Maurice,
who explained what had happened.

They had found a good camping-ground, where wood was abundant, and had
tried to light a fire. But the remaining matches proved to have been
badly dampened; the heads were pasty or entirely soaked off. One by
one they fizzled and went out. As a last hope, Maurice had hurried
back to their night camp for fire, only to find that the wet log had
smouldered down and gone dead out.

The spot was about two thirds of a mile away, south from the river. A
great windrow of hemlocks and jack-pines had fallen together, and
afforded plenty of wood. On one of the logs sat Macgregor, with his
elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands, the picture of despair;
and at his feet was a litter of bark and kindling, and a dozen burnt
matches.

They all sat down together in silence, and nobody found a word of
comfort.

It was a brilliantly clear day, but the temperature had certainly not
risen to zero, and a slight, cutting wind blew from the west. The sun
shone in an icy blue sky, but there was no heat in its rays.

"If we only had a cartridge," said Fred, "we might make a fire with the
gun flash."

They all made another vain search of