of 



night in a snow-drift. Quickly kicking and 

 trampling a trench in a loose drift, I placed 

 my elk-skin sleeping-bag therein, thrust Scotch 

 into the bag, and then squeezed into it myself. 



I was almost congealed with cold. My first 

 thought after warming up was to wonder why I 

 had not earlier remembered the bag. Two in a 

 bag would guarantee warmth, and with warmth 

 a snow-drift on the crest of the continent would 

 not be a bad place in which to lodge for the 

 night. 



The sounds of wind and snow beating upon 

 the bag grew fainter and fainter as we were 

 drifted and piled over with the latter. At the 

 same time our temperature rose, and before 

 long it was necessary to open the flap of the bag 

 slightly for ventilation. 



At last the sounds of the storm could barely 

 be heard. Was the storm quieting down, or was 

 its roar muffled and lost in the deepening cover 

 of snow, was the unimportant question occupy- 

 ing my thoughts when I fell asleep. 



Scotch awakened me in trying to get out of 

 the bag. It was morning. Out we crawled, and, 



316 



