a sort
of prison-room, used during the regime of the petty tyrant McDonell. It
was cold enough to cool any hot-head, and mine was very hot indeed. I
knew the apartment well. Nor'-Westers had used it as a fur storeroom.
The wind came through the crevices of the board walls and piled
miniature drifts on the floor-cracks, all the while rattling loose
timbers like a saw-mill. The roof was but a few feet high, and I crept
to the window, finding all the small panes coated with two inches of
hoar-frost. Whether the iron bars outside ran across, or up and down, I
could not remember; but the fact would make a difference to a man
trying to escape. Much as I disliked to break the glass letting in more
cold, there was only one way of finding out about those bars. I raised
my foot for an outward kick, but remembering I wore only the moccasins
with which I had been snowshoeing, I struck my fist through instead, and
shattered the whole upper half of the window. I broke away cross-pieces
that might obstruct outward passage, and leaning down put my hand on the
sharp points of upright spikes. So intense was the frost, the skin of my
finger tips stuck to the iron, and I drew my hand in, with the sting of
a fresh burn.

It was unfortunate about those bars. I could not possibly get past them
down to the ground without making a ladder from my great-coat. I groped
round the room hoping that some of the canvas in which we tied the
peltries, might be lying about. There was nothing of the sort, or I
missed it in the dark. Quickly tearing my coat into strips, I knotted
triple plies together and fastened the upper end to the crosspiece of
the lower window. Feet first, I poked myself out, caught the strands
with both hands, and like a flash struck ground below with badly skinned
palms. That reminded me I had left my mits in the prison room.

The storm had driven the soldiers inside. I did not encounter a soul in
the courtyard, and had no difficulty in letting myself out by the main
gate.

I whistled for the dogs. They came huddling from the ladders where I
had left them, the sleigh still trailing at their heels. One poor animal
was so benumbed I cut him from the traces and left him to die. Gathering
up the robes, I shook them free of snow, replaced them in the sleigh and
led the string of dogs down to the river. It would be bitterly cold
facing that sweep of unbroken wind in mid-river; but the trail over ice
would permit greater speed, and with