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The sky, hitherto bright, became overcast with clouds about the time that we had got over about two-thirds of the days journey. Hugh and Red Squirrel and I were at some distance in the rear of the party, when snow began to fall and the wind to blow with unusual violence. The snow came down so thickly that it seemed as if the contents of a huge feather-bed had suddenly been emptied upon us. Thicker and thicker it fell; so great was the obscurity that we could scarcely see a yard ahead, while the tracks of our companions were almost instantly obliterated.
We shouted, expecting that they would reply, and that we should be guided by their voices, but no sound came in return. We tried to run on, hoping to overtake them, when Hugh fell and broke one of his snow-shoes. We, of course, stopped to help him up, and in so doing must have turned slightly about. Red Squirrel, ever fertile in resources, set to work to mend the shoe. This he did very rapidly; but even that short delay was serious. As soon as Hugh was on his legs we again hurried on, supposing that we were following close behind the rest of the party. We shouted and shouted, but still there was no reply. I asked Red Squirrel if he thought we were going right.
He did not answer.
It is seldom that an Indian loses his way, but at length I began to fear that he was at fault. He acknowledged, indeed, that he was so. We unslung our guns, hoping that if we fired our friends would hear the report, and fire theirs in return, but neither Hughs nor mine would go off. We put on fresh caps, and both again snapped. I felt in my pouch for my pricker, to try and clear out the nipple, but could not find it. I asked Hugh for his.
Im afraid that I dropped it yesterday evening in the camp, and I thought that I would look for it in the morning, but forgot to do so, he answered.
At last we gave up the attempt in despair. More valuable time had thus been lost. Red Squirrel urged us to go on, saying that he thought he could guide us by the wind. On and on we went. The snow fell as thickly as ever. At last Hugh declared that he could go no further. We were both suffering from fearful pains in our ankles the mal de raquette , as the French Canadians call it, produced by the pressure of the snow-shoe straps.
I looked anxiously about, hoping to discover some trees or shrubs which might afford us shelter and enable us to light a fire, but a thick veil of falling snow shrouded us on every side. I consulted Red Squirrel as to what we should do. One thing was certain that if we remained in the open, exposed to the biting blast, we should perish. I feared that such would be our fate. Poor Hugh gave way altogether, and, casting off the straps from his ankles, threw himself down on the snow, and begged us to leave him.
Chapter Ten. Snowed Up
leave Hugh was not to be thought of.
Oh, say what we must do! I exclaimed, addressing Red Squirrel.
Make haste, he answered, taking off his snow-shoes.
I took off mine also, and using them as spades, we energetically set to work to shovel up the snow until we had got down to the ground, building up a wall with what we had thrown out. There was just sufficient space to hold three. We then placed Red Squirrels shoes on the top, for they were the longest, and Hughs above them, while with mine we threw up more snow to form a roof. As soon as we had got thus far, we lowered Hugh into our burrow, that he might be sheltered from the wind, placing the guns beside him. We then continued throwing up the snow until we had completely surrounded the hole, leaving only a small aperture through which we could crawl in on hands and knees. We next covered one of my snow-shoes with snow, patted it down until it was like a board, and this served as the door of our burrow. We had just space sufficient to sit up, or lie down packed close together, for we knew that the smaller its size the warmer it would be, or, rather, the less should feel the cold.
The change from the outer biting air made us feel tolerably comfortable, and we had no great fear of being frozen to death. Hugh, from not having exerted himself in building the hut, suffered more than Red Squirrel or I, and as soon as the door was closed I set to work to rub his hands and feet to restore circulation, for I was afraid that they might have been frost-bitten.
A very faint light at first came in through the snowy walls, but this lessened, until we could not see our hands held close to our faces.
Night we knew must have at length come on. We were very hungry, but as we had not a particle of food, there was no use in complaining.
For a long time neither Hugh nor I could go to sleep. At last Red Squirrel set us the example, and when, some time afterwards, I addressed Hugh, he did not answer, so that I knew he had forgotten his troubles, and I hoped that perfect rest would enable him to recover from the pain he had been suffering. I at last also dropped off to sleep.