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