i88 NEIGHBOURS UNKNOWN 



tings and fine hissings where the flakes fell 

 at their thin edges. 



Having collected a pile of dry sticks with- 

 in easy reach, the man stretched a couple of 

 stitched caribou hides on poles to form a 

 sloping roof over his head, cooked himself a 

 hasty stew of pemmican and biscuit, made a 

 hearty meal, and squatted before the fire 

 with his back against his sledge, to smoke 

 and wait. He knew how to wait, like an 

 Indian, when there was anything to be gained 

 by it, and his heart, weary of pemmican, was 

 set on fresh meat. 



There was no sign of the storm breaking ; 

 there was no use hunting in the storm. 

 There was nothing to fear, for it was now 

 three weeks since he had seen sign of the 

 wolves which had eaten his dogs, and he 

 knew that they had ranged off on the trail of 

 the vanished caribou. There was nothing to 

 do. He was warm and filled, and free from 

 care. Some hundred miles or so away there 

 was a post and human companionship to 

 which he looked forward with unhurried 

 content. In due time he would arrive there 

 and find it, as always before, unchanged, like 

 all else in that land of inevitable recurrence. 

 Meanwhile this afternoon, perhaps, or to- 

 morrow he would shoot a young musk-ox 



