Trail and Camp-Fire 



filled it ; in the north the great pale arc of the 

 aurora reflected faintly on the white snow 

 lying over the open space of the river in front 

 of us. But the keen air allowed little time for 

 more than a swift glance ; then a match light- 

 ed showed the mercury at eighteen degrees 

 below zero — not extreme, but cold enough 

 to make blankets desirable ; so I got back 

 into them without further delay, and fell 

 asleep. 



The next thing I knew, some one else was 

 poking the fire ; the room was warm, and the 

 light of day came through the windows. I 

 turned and saw the red " tuque," straight 

 black hair, and copper skin of Peter lit up by 

 the flames as he bent over the stove. Seeing 

 me stir, he remarked that breakfast was nearly 

 ready, and that the morning was " varry cold." 

 Signs of life now appeared in George, my 

 companion, and soon we were at breakfast, 

 with that appetite which surely is not the least 

 boon of a woodland life. Peter was right 

 about the cold. It was nearly eight o'clock 

 now, and the thermometer stood at twenty- 

 seven degrees below zero, but the cloudless 

 sky and perfectly still air were a promise that 

 this would be the best of all days for a winter 



136 



