ls (for iron-work snaps like glass in such a cold
climate as that of Ungava), but by thongs of undressed sealskin, which,
although they held the fabric very loosely together in appearance, were,
nevertheless, remarkably strong, and served their purpose very well.
Two short upright bars behind served as a back to lean against. But the
most curious part of the machine was the substance with which the
runners were shod, in order to preserve them. This was a preparation of
mud and water, which was plastered smoothly on in a soft condition, and
then allowed to freeze. This it did in a few minutes after being
exposed to the open air, and thus became a smooth, hard sheathing, which
was much more durable and less liable to break than iron, or indeed any
other sheathing that could be devised. This substance is, of course,
easily repaired, and is always used by the Esquimaux in winter.

Esquimau sledges being heavy, and meant for carrying a number of people,
require large teams of dogs. But Edith's sledge--or sled, as the men
called it--was little. Moreover, Edith herself was little and light,
therefore Chimo was deemed sufficiently powerful to draw it. So
thoroughly correct were they in this supposition, that when Edith was
seated in her sledge for a trial trip, and Chimo harnessed, he ran away
with her and gave Frank a chase of half a mile over the river ere he
condescended to stop in his wild career.

But the intended excursion was suddenly interrupted and postponed, by an
event which we shall relate in the next chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

BURIED ALIVE--BUT NOT KILLED--THE GIANT IN THE SNOW-STORM.

The event which prevented the excursion referred to in the last chapter
was neither more nor less than a snowstorm. "Was that all?" say you,
reader? Nay, that was not all. Independently of the fact that it was a
snowstorm the like of which you have never seen, unless you have
travelled in northern climes, it was a snow-storm that produced results.
Of these, more hereafter.

The storm began with a sigh--a mysterious sigh, that swept over the
mountains of Ungava with a soft, mournful wail, and died slowly away in
the distant glen of the Caniapuscaw, as if the spirit of the north wind
grieved to think of the withering desolation it was about to launch upon
the land.

The gathering clouds that preceded and accompanied this sigh induced
Frank Morton to countermand his orders for the intended journey. In
order t