70 THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS 



occasions of the kind of men my comrades were, but 

 their conduct that day was such that I shall never 

 forget it, to whatever age I may live. In the course of 

 the night the wind had gone back to the north, and 

 increased to a gale. It was blowing and snowing so 

 that when we came out in the morning we could not 

 see the sledges; they were half snowed under. The 

 dogs had all crept together, and protected themselves as 

 well as they could against the blizzard. The tempera- 

 ture was not so very low (- 16*6° F.), but low enough 

 to be disagreeably felt in a storm. We had all taken a 

 turn outside to look at the weather, and were sitting on 

 our sleeping-bags discussing the poor prospect. " It's 

 the devil's own weather here at the Butcher's," said 

 one; "it looks to me as if it would never get any 

 better. This is the fifth day, and it's blowing worse 

 than ever." We all agreed. " There's nothing so bad 

 as lying weather-bound like this," continued another; 

 " it takes more out of you than going from morning to 

 night." Personally, I was of the same opinion. One 

 day may be pleasant enough, but two, three, four, 

 and, as it now seemed, five days — no, it was awful. 

 " Shall we try it?" No sooner was the proposal sub- 

 mitted than it was accepted unanimously and with 

 acclamation. When I think of my four friends of the 

 southern journey, it is the memory of that morning 

 that comes first to my mind. All the qualities that 

 I most admire in a man were clearly shown at that 



