Trails that Cross in the Snow 105 
“ Noel not lost; Noel right here. Camp lost, little 
sister.” 
“ Can we find um, little brother ? ” 
“ Oh, yes, we find um. Find um bimeby, pretty soon 
quick now, after storm.” 
“ But storm last all night, and it’s soon dark. Can we 
rest and not freeze ? Mooka tired and — and frightened, 
little brother.” 
“ Sartin we rest; build um commoosie and sleep jus’ 
like bear in his den. Oh, yes, sartin we rest good,” said 
Noel cheerfully. 
“And the wolves, little brother?” whispered Mooka, 
looking back timidly into the wild waste out of which 
they had come. 
“Never mind hwolves; nothing hunts in storm, little 
sister. Come on, we must find um woods now.” 
For one brief moment the little hunter stood with 
upturned face, while Mooka bowed her head silently, 
and the great storm rolled unheeded over them. Still 
holding his long bow he stretched both hands to the 
sky in the mute appeal that Keesuolukh , the Great 
Mystery whom we call God, would understand better 
than all words. Then turning their backs to the gale 
they drifted swiftly away before it, like two wind-blown 
leaves, running to keep from freezing, and holding each 
other’s hands tight lest they separate and be lost by 
the way. 
