obes, then with boughs and branches of
pine and tamarack. A hollow was scooped in the ground near the tree for
a fireplace, and an opening in the top served as chimney and
ventilator. One opening led into the tent and another served as an
outer door.

To keep the beds off the wet earth, two rows of short posts were driven
along the sides in the tent, and poles were laid across the tops, thus
forming racks to support the pine boughs upon which the beds should be
made. While this was being done, Elitha, Leanna, and Mrs. Wolfinger
were bringing poles and brush with which to strengthen and sheath the
tent walls against wind and weather. Even Sister Frances looked tall
and helpful as she trudged by with her little loads.

The combination of tent and hut was designed for my father and family
and Mrs. Wolfinger. The teamsters, Samuel Shoemaker, Joseph Rhinehart,
James Smith, and John Baptiste, built their hut in Indian wigwam
fashion. Not far from us, across the stream, braced against a log, was
reared a mixed structure of brush and tent for use of Uncle Jacob, Aunt
Betsy, and William and Solomon Hook (Aunt Betsy's sons by a former
husband), and their five small children, George, Mary, Isaac, Lewis,
and Samuel Donner.

Before we two could leave our perch, the snow was falling faster and in
larger flakes. It made pictures for Georgia and me upon the branches of
big and little trees; it gathered in a ridge beside us upon the log; it
nestled in piles upon our buffalo robe; and by the time our quarters
were finished, it was veiling Uncle Jacob's from view. Everything
within was cold, damp, and dreary, until our tired mother and elder
sisters built the fire, prepared our supper, and sent us to bed, each
with a lump of loaf sugar as comforter.

[Footnote 3: Thornton.]

CHAPTER VII

SNOWBOUND--SCARCITY OF FOOD AT BOTH CAMPS--WATCHING FOR RETURN OF
M'CUTCHEN AND REED.

When we awoke the following morning, little heaps of snow lay here and
there upon the floor. No threshold could be seen, only a snow-bank
reaching up to the white plain beyond, where every sound was muffled,
and every object was blurred by falling flakes.

Father's face was very grave. His morning caress had all its wonted
tenderness, but the merry twinkle was gone from his eye, and the
gladsome note from his voice. For eight consecutive days, the fatal
snow fell with but few short intermissions. Eight days, in which there
was nothing to break the monot