The meal was a cozy one.  Outside the wind shrieked angrily and swirled the snow in smothering clouds around the tilt, and rattled the stovepipe, threatening to shake it down.  It was very pleasant to be out of it all in the snug, warm shack with the stove crackling contentedly and the place filled with the mingled odours of the steaming kettle of partridges and tea and spruce boughs.  To the hunters it seemed luxurious after their tedious fight against the swift river.  Times like this bring ample recompense to the wilderness traveller for the most strenuous hardships that he is called upon to endure.  The memory of one such night will make men forget a month of suffering.  Herein lies one of the secret charms of the wilds.

When supper was finished Dick and Bill filled their pipes, and with coals from the stove lighted them.  Then they lounged back and puffed with an air of such perfect, speechless bliss that for the first time in his life Bob felt a desire to smoke.  He drew from his pocket the pipe Douglas had given him and filled it from a plug of the tobacco.  When he reached for a firebrand to light it Dick noticed what he was doing and asked good naturedly,—­

“Think t’ smoke with us, eh?”

“Yes, thinks I’ll try un.”

“An’ be gettin’ sick before un knows it,” volunteered Bill.

Disregarding the suggestion Bob fired his pipe and lay back with the air of an old veteran.  He soon found that he did not like it very much, and in a little while he felt a queer sensation in his stomach, but it was not in Bob’s nature to acknowledge himself beaten so easily, and he puffed on doggedly.  Pretty soon beads of perspiration stood out upon his forehead and he grew white.  Then he quietly laid aside the pipe and groped his way unsteadily out of doors, for he was very dizzy and faint.  When he finally returned he was too sick to pay any attention to the banter of his companions, who unsympathetically made fun of him, and he lay down with the inward belief that smoking was not the pleasure it was said to be, and as for himself he would never touch a pipe again.

All day Sunday and Monday the storm blew with unabated fury and the three were held close prisoners in the tilt.  On Monday night it cleared, and Tuesday morning came clear and rasping cold.

Long before daylight breakfast was eaten and preparations made for travelling.  Bob lashed his tent, cooking utensils, some traps and a supply of provisions upon one of two toboggans that leaned against the tilt outside.  The other one was for Bill when he should need it.  Dick did up his blanket and a few provisions into a light pack, new slings were adjusted to their snow-shoes and finally they were ready to strike the trails.

The steel-gray dawn was just showing when Dick shouldered his pack, took his axe and gun and shook hands with the boys.

“Good-bye Bob.  Have a care o’ nasty weather an’ don’t be losin’ yourself.  I’ll see you in a fortnight, Bill.  Good-bye.”