Mukoki grunted his approval of the driver’s words and Rod at once began gathering more fuel for the fire.  The temporary camp was soon a scene of the liveliest activity.  While the courier unpacked his provisions, Mukoki and Wabigoon assembled the teams and proceeded to select three of the best of their own animals to put in harness with those of the Hudson Bay mail.  The dogs from Wabinosh House were wildly famished and at the sight and odor of the great piece of meat which the courier began cutting up for them they set up a snarling and snapping of jaws, and began fighting indiscriminately among themselves until the voices of their human companions were almost drowned in the tumult.  A full pound of the meat was given to each dog, and other pieces of it were suspended over beds of coals drawn out from the big fire.  Meanwhile Rod was chopping through the thick ice of the lake in search of water.

After a little Wabi came down to join him.

“Our sledge is ready,” he said, as Rod stopped to rest for a moment.  “We’re a little short on grub for nine dogs and three people, but we’ve got plenty of ammunition.  We ought to find something on the trail.”

“Rabbits, anyway,” suggested Rod, resuming his chopping.  A few more strokes, and water gushed through.  Filling two pails the boys returned to camp.

The shadows from the sharp pointed cedars of the forest were falling far out upon the frozen lake when the meal was finished, and the sun, sinking early to its rest beyond the homeless solitudes, infused but little warmth as the three hunters prepared to leave.  It was only three o’clock, but a penetrating chill was growing in the air.  Half an hour more and only a reddish glow would be where the northern sun still shone feebly.  In the far North winter night falls with the swiftness of wings; it enshrouds one like a palpable, moving thing, a curtain of gloom that can almost be touched and felt, and so it came now, as the dogs were hitched to their sledge and Rod, Mukoki and Wabigoon bade good-by to the driver of the Hudson Bay mail.

“You’ll make the other side in four hours,” he called, as Mukoki’s cries sent the dogs trotting out upon the lake.  “And then—­I’d camp!”

Running on ahead Mukoki set the pace and marked the trail.  Wabi took the first turn on the sledge, and Rod, who was fresher than either of his comrades, followed close behind.  After a little he drew up beside the young Indian and placed a hand on his shoulder as he ran.

“We will reach our old camp—­in the plain—­to-morrow?” he questioned, between breaths.

“To-morrow,” affirmed Wabi.  “Mukoki will show us the shortest cut to it.  After that, after we reach the camp, everything will depend upon you.”