VI 



JACK TRIUMPHANT IN THE BLIZZARD 



I 



ii IT'LL never see my mother again and 

 you will never see your wife and little 

 'ones! " 



Such was the pathetic cry of a fine young 

 Indian lad when he and I found ourselves 

 lost in a blizzard storm out on Lake Winni- 

 peg, one wild fierce wintry day. We had 

 started away from our home several days 

 before this, on a winter trip of several hun- 

 dreds of miles. We were each driving a 

 splendid train of dogs. We had no guide 

 or experienced Indian attendant. It was a 

 risky experiment we were making but I did 

 not see my way clear to do otherwise. 



The fact was, word had come from head- 

 quarters that there would be no appropria- 

 tions for trips to outside pagan Indians that 

 year. That meant that I was to remain at 

 ease in my quiet little cosy home and con- 

 fine my work and toil to one or two bands 

 of Indians, all of whom were about Chris- 

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