s no
longer any danger of serious trouble. He had to remain in the cabin
that day and was unable to put on his moccasins, but he was much elated
at his luck in getting off so lightly. It was snowing and stormy,
besides; none of the boys went out much, except for the endless task of
cutting firewood. They lounged about the cabin and discussed the
problems that perplexed them so much--whether Horace had really
discovered any diamonds, and what had become of him, and how and
why--until the subject was utterly worn out. Maurice then made a
checkerboard, and they played matches till they wearied of this
amusement also.

The next day they had to fall back on it again, however, for the
weather was still stormy. During the afternoon it snowed heavily.
Mac's feet were much better, and he wore his moccasins, but judged it
unsafe to go out into the snow for another day. In the midst of the
storm Fred and Maurice cut down a couple of dead hemlocks, and chopped
part of them up for fuel. It was amazing to see what a quantity of
wood the rough fireplace consumed.

"If we had acres of diamond beds we couldn't afford such fires in
town," Maurice remarked.

The next day the weather cleared, but turned bitterly cold. In the
afternoon Maurice ventured out to look for game, and came back about
four o'clock with three spruce grouse and a frost-bitten nose. The
boys were all standing outside the cabin door, when Fred suddenly
started.

Round the bend a sledge had just appeared on the river. It was drawn
by six dogs, coming at a flagging trot through the deep snow; four men
on snowshoes ran behind and beside it. For a moment the men seemed to
hesitate as they caught sight of the hut. But they came on, turned up
the shore, and drove straight to the cabin at a gallop.

Three of the _voyageurs_ were plainly French Canadians, or possibly
French half-breeds, wiry, weather-beaten men, dark almost as Indians;
the fourth was big and heavily built, and wore a red beard that was now
a mass of ice. All of them wore cartridge belts, and four rifles lay
on the packed sledge.

"_Bo' jou'_!" cried the dark-faced men, as they came within hailing
distance.

"_Bon jour_!" Maurice shouted back. He was the only one who knew any
French, and he knew but little. He was searching his memory for a few
more words, when the red-bearded man came forward and nodded.

"Didn't know any one was living here this winter," he said. "Trapping?"

"Hun