A CHANCE OF STAEVATION. 167 



debating the matter, we came to the conclusion it was only 

 a last parting adieu of Old Winter's that the coming 

 morning would be clear and fine and so we went quietly off 

 to sleep again. 



Morning came. It was still snowing, more determinedly 

 than ever. The loose animals had run off as before. The 

 three mules tied up to the hitching bar, stood with their 

 backs arched and their tails turned to the wind. All day 

 it snowed, all night, all next day. A thick, ceaseless, steady, 

 downfall of large flakes. Then came the wind a furious 

 gale ; and with the wind, a blinding, driving storm of fine, 

 hard-frozen snow so thick, so close, you could not see a 

 dozen yards before you. Soon the already fallen snow began 

 to drift with the wind. Then we knew what was up. We 

 were snowed in, hard and fast. It would not take many 

 hours, at the rate the snow was drifting and falling, to fill 

 the passes and render them impracticable. An ugly pros- 

 pect, with an empty locker, an exhausted larder, and no 

 game to be procured. 



The fourth morning cleared up still and cold, with a 

 cloudless sky, but with nearly three feet of snow upon the 

 ground, where it had not drifted. 



We took stock of our provisions, and called a council 

 of war. It was a case where our hired men had as much 

 right to be consulted and to advise as we had to come 

 to any determination for it was a case of possible 

 starvation. 



The position, when looked squarely in the face, was 

 this : Our stock of provisions was nearly exhausted ; the 

 game had gone, for their instinct had forewarned them of 



