uddenly out of their warm abode, and emerged into the sharp, frosty
air, which blew the snow-drift into their eyes, they felt a momentary
desire to give up the project and return to their comfortable quarters.

"What a dismal-looking night it is!" said the accountant, as he led the
way along the wooden platform towards the gate of the fort.

"Very!" replied Hamilton, with an involuntary shudder.

"Keep up your heart," said Harry, in a cheerful voice; "you've no notion
how your mind will change on that point when you have walked a mile or
so and got into a comfortable heat. I must confess, however, that a
little moonshine would be an improvement," he added, on stumbling, for
the third time, off the platform into the deep snow.

"It is full moon just now," said the accountant, "and I think the clouds
look as if they would break soon. At any rate, I've been at North River
so often that I believe I could walk out there blindfold."

As he spoke they passed the gate, and diverging to the right, proceeded,
as well as the imperfect light permitted, along the footpath that led to
the forest.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE WALK CONTINUED--FROZEN TOES--AN ENCAMPMENT IN THE SNOW.

After quitting York Fort, the three friends followed the track leading
to the spot where the winter's firewood was cut. Snow was still falling
thickly, and it was with some difficulty that the accountant kept in the
right direction. The night was excessively dark, while the dense fir
forest, through which the narrow road ran, rendered the gloom, if
possible, more intense.

When they had proceeded about a mile, their leader suddenly came to a
stand.

"We must quit the track now," said he; "so get on your snow-shoes as
fast as you can."

Hitherto they had carried their snow-shoes under their arms, as the
beaten track along which they travelled rendered them unnecessary; but
now, having to leave the path and pursue the remainder of their journey
through deep snow, they availed themselves of those useful machines by
means of which the inhabitants of this part of North America are enabled
to journey over many miles of trackless wilderness, with nearly as much
ease as a sportsman can traverse the moors in autumn, and that over snow
so deep that one hour's walk through it _without_ such aids would
completely exhaust the stoutest trapper, and advance him only a mile or
so on his journey. In other words, to walk without snow-shoes would be
utterly i