to the toil of
it. Once, having missed the way in a blizzard, we had to camp on the
snow with the thermometer standing at twenty below zero. The problem
was all the more interesting as we struck only "taunt" timberwoods
with no undergrowth to halt the wind. On another occasion we attempted
to cross Hare Bay, and one of the dogs fell through the ice. There was
a biting wind blowing, and it was ten degrees below zero. When we
were a mile off the land I got off the sledge to try the ice edge,
when suddenly it gave way, and in I fell. It did not take me long to
get out--the best advice being to "keep cool." I had as hard a mile's
running as ever I experienced, for my clothing was fast becoming like
the armour of an ancient knight; and though in my youth I had been
accustomed to break the ice in the morning to bathe, I had never run
in a coat of mail.

Never shall I forget dragging ourselves in among those big trees with
our axes, and tumbling to sleep in a grave in the snow, in spite of
the elements. In this hole in a sleeping-bag, protected by the light
drift which blew in, one rested as comfortably as in a more
conventional type of feather bed. Nor, when I think of De Quincey's
idea of supreme happiness before the glowing logs, can I forget that
gorgeous blaze which the watch kept up by felling trees full length
into the fire, so that our Yule logs were twenty feet long, and the
ruddy glow and crackling warmth went smashing through the hurtling
snowdrift. True, it was cold taking off our dripping clothing, which
as it froze on us made progress as difficult as if we were encased in
armour. But dancing up and down before a huge fire in the crisp open
air under God's blue sky gave as pleasing a reaction as doing the same
thing in the dusty, germ-laden atmosphere of a ballroom in the small
hours of the night, when one would better be in bed, if the joys of
efficiency and accomplishment are the durable pleasure of life.

It was a real picnic which we had at the mill. Our visit was as
welcome as it was unexpected, and we celebrated it by the whole day
off, when all hands went "rabbiting." When at the end, hot and tired,
we gathered round a huge log fire in the woods and discussed boiling
cocoa and pork buns, we all agreed that it had been a day worth
living for.

Logging had progressed favourably. Logs were close at hand; and the
whole enterprise spelled cash coming in that the people had never
earned before. The time had