In the lee of a low-branched spruce they stopped again, as though by a common impulse, while Noel lifted his hands.  “Thanks, thanks, Keesuolukh; we can take care of ourselves now,” the brave little heart was singing under the upstretched arms.  Then they tumbled into the snow and lay for a moment utterly relaxed, like two tired animals, in that brief, delicious rest which follows a terrible struggle with the storm and cold.

First they ate a little of their bread and fish to keep up their spirits; then—­for the storm that was upon them might last for days—­they set about preparing a shelter.  With a little search, whooping to each other lest they stray away, they found a big dry stub that some gale had snapped off a few feet above the snow.  While Mooka scurried about, collecting birch bark and armfuls of dry branches, Noel took off his snow-shoes and began with one of them to shovel away the snow in a semicircle around the base of the stub.  In a short half-hour he had a deep hole there, with the snow banked up around it to the height of his head.  Next with his knife he cut a lot of light poles and scrub spruces and, sticking the butts in his snowbank, laid the tops, like the sticks of a wigwam, firmly against the big stub.  A few armfuls of spruce boughs shingled over this roof, and a few minutes’ work shoveling snow thickly upon them to hold them in place and to make a warm covering; then a doorway, or rather a narrow tunnel, just beyond the stub on the straight side of the semicircle, and their commoosie was all ready.  Let the storm roar and the snow sift down!  The thicker it fell the warmer would be their shelter.  They laughed and shouted now as they scurried out and in, bringing boughs for a bed and the fire-wood which Mooka had gathered.

Against the base of the dry stub they built their fire,—­a wee, sociable little fire such as an Indian always builds, which is far better than a big one, for it draws you near and welcomes you cheerily, instead of driving you away by its smoke and great heat.  Soon the big stub itself began to burn, glowing steadily with a heat that filled the snug little commoosie, while the smoke found its way out of the hole in the roof which Noel had left for that purpose.  Later the stub burned through to its hollow center, and then they had a famous chimney, which soon grew hot and glowing inside, and added its mite to the children’s comfort.

Noel and Mooka were drowsy now; but before the long night closed in upon them they had gathered more wood, and laid aside some wisps of birch bark to use when they should wake, cold and shivering, and find their little fire gone out and the big stub losing its cheery glow.  Then they lay down to rest, and the night and the storm rolled on unheeded.

Towards morning they fell into a heavy sleep; for the big stub began to burn more freely as the wind changed, and they need not stir every half hour to feed their little fire and keep from freezing.  It was broad daylight, the storm had ceased, and a woodpecker was hammering loudly on a hollow shell over their heads when they started up, wondering vaguely where they were.  Then while Noel broke out of the commoosie, which was fairly buried under the snow, to find out where he was, Mooka rebuilt the fire and plucked a ptarmigan and set it to toasting with the last of their bread over the coals.