Glad to escape from the suffocating hole, I emptied my fire-bag of tobacco among the group and got out into the cold night-air.  What a change!  Over the silent snow-sheeted lake, over the dark isles and the cedar shores, the moon was shining amidst a deep blue sky.  Around were grouped a few birch-bark wigwams.  My four dogs, now well known and trusty friends, were holding high carnival over the heads and tails of Chicag’s feast.  In one of the wigwams, detached from the rest, sat a very old man wrapped in a tattered blanket.  He was splitting wood into little pieces, and feeding a small fire in the centre of the lodge, while he chattered to himself all the time.  The place was clean, and as I watched the little old fellow at his work I decided to make my bed in his lodge.  He was no other than Parisiboy, the medicine-man of the camp, the quaintest little old savage I had ever encountered.  Two small white mongrels alone shared his wigwam.  “See,” he said, “I have no one with me but these two dogs.”  The curs thus alluded to felt themselves bound to prove that they were cognizant of the fact by shoving forward their noses one on each side of old Parisiboy, an impertinence on their part which led to their sudden expulsion by being pitched headlong out of the door.  Parisiboy now commenced a lengthened exposition of his woes.  “His blanket was old and full of holes, through which the cold found easy entrance.  He was a very great medicine-man, but he was very poor, and tea was a luxury which he seldom tasted.”  I put a handful of tea into his little kettle, and his bright eyes twinkled with delight under their shaggy brows.  “I never go to sleep,” he continued; “it is too cold to go to sleep; I sit up all night splitting wood and smoking and keeping the fire alight; if I had tea I would never lie down at all.”  As I made my bed he continued to sing to himself, chatter and laugh with a peculiar low chuckle, watching me all the time.  His first brew of tea was quickly made; hot and strong, he poured it into a cup, and drank it with evident delight; then in went more water on the leaves and down on the fire again went the little kettle.` But I was not permitted to lie down without interruption.  Chicag headed a deputation of his brethren, and grew loud over the recital of his grievances.  Between the sturgeon and the Company he appeared to think himself victim, but I was unable to gather whether the balance of ill-treatment lay on the side of the fish or of the corporation.  Finally I got rid of the lot, and crept into my bag.  Parisiboy sat at the other side of the fire, grinning and chuckling and sipping his tea.  All night long I heard through my fitful sleep his harsh chuckle and his song.  Whenever I opened my eyes, there was the little old man in the same attitude, crouching over the fire, which he sedulously kept alight.  How many brews of tea he made, I can’t say; but when daylight came he was still at the work, and as I replenished the kettle the old leaves seemed well-nigh bleached by continued boilings.