2S o ON SNOW-SHOES TO THE BARREN GROUNDS 



when all the Indians but one had returned to report the 

 killing of eleven musk-oxen. It had grown so much colder 

 after "sunset I was curious to see what the thermometer 

 registered, but after looking I discovered it broken, un- 

 doubtedly by the pounding of the sledge in the last few 

 days' rough going. Thereafter I had not the poor gratifi- 

 cation of knowing just how low the mercury, or, rather, 

 spirit (for, of course, it was a spirit thermometer), fell on 

 some of the fearful days we had subsequently. From 

 signs I learned the missing Indian (Seeyah) had discov- 

 ered caribou tracks, and promptly abandoned the musk- 

 ox trail. 



While we made the little fire and boiled the tea we fired 

 our guns in signal at intervals of probably ten minutes, 

 but there was no response, and when we had finally set- 

 tled ourselves for the night Seeyah was still wandering jn 

 the bitter cold. And what a night that was ! First snow, 

 afterwards sleet, and all the time a perfect hurricane of 

 the wind that knows no cessation in the Barren Grounds. 

 Sleep was impossible. Our lodge was blown full of snow, 

 burying us and the dogs in its driftings, and was finally 

 blown down altogether, and would have been blown away 

 had we not held on to it. 



Next morning we righted the lodge and shovelled out 

 the snow with our snow-shoes, and then went our several 

 ways to bring in the robes of the previous day's killing. I 

 remember I had quite a task finding my musk-oxen, for 

 the snow-shoe prints of the day before had been entirely 

 obliterated by the night's storm. However, I did find 

 them about three miles away, and a sorry sight they were 

 to me, for the dogs had been at the throats and heads dur- 

 ing the night, and torn one so badly that it was useless 

 as a specimen. The other one was not so damaged, and I 

 took it back to camp. 



