It was quite dark before they all settled themselves around the fire for supper.  Two frying pans were now produced, and from a haunch of venison, frozen as hard as a block of wood, thin chips were cut with an axe, and with ample pieces of fat were soon sizzling in the pans and filling the air with an appetizing odour, and in spite of the bleak surroundings the place assumed a degree of comfort and hospitality.

After supper the Indians squatted around the fire on deerskins spread upon the boughs, smoking their pipes and telling stories, while Bob reclined upon the soft robes that Manikawan had thoughtfully provided him with, watching the light play over their dark faces framed in long black hair, and thought of the Indian girl and wondered if he was always to live amongst them, and if he would ever become accustomed to their wild, rude life.

Finally they lay down close together, with their feet towards the fire, and wrapped their heads and shoulders closely in the skins, leaving their moccasined feet uncovered, to be warmed by the blaze, and the lad was soon lost in dreams of the snug cabin at Wolf Bight.  Once during the night he awoke and arose to replenish the fire.  The stars were looking down upon them, cold and distant, and the wilderness seemed very solemn and quiet when he resumed his place amongst the sleeping Indians.

They were on their way again by moonlight the following morning.  Shortly after daybreak they turned out of the river bed and towards noon came upon some snow-shoe tracks.  A little later they passed a steel trap, in which a white arctic fox straggled for freedom.  They halted a moment for Sishetakushin to press his knee upon its side to kill it and then went on.  The fox he left in the trap, however, for the hunter to whom it belonged.  This was the first steel trap that Bob had seen since coming amongst the Indians and he drew from its presence here that they must be approaching a trading station where traps were obtainable and in use by the hunters.

In the middle of the afternoon they turned into a komatik track, and Bob’s heart gave a bound of joy.

“Sure we’re gettin’ handy t’ th’ coast!” he exclaimed.

They would soon find white men, he was sure.  The track led them on for a mile or so, and then they heard a dog’s howl and a moment later came out upon two snow igloos.  Eskimo men, women, and children emerged on their hands and knees from the low, snow-tunnel entrance of the igloos at their approach, but when they saw that the travellers were a party of Indians, gave no invitation to them to enter, and said nothing until Bob called “Oksunie” to them—­a word of greeting that he had learned from the Bay folk.  Then they called to him “Oksunie, oksunie,” and began to talk amongst themselves.

“They’re rare wild lookin’ huskies,” thought Bob.

As much as Bob would have liked to stop, he did not do so, for the Indians stalked past at a rapid pace, never by word or look showing that they had seen the igloos or the Eskimos.