Chantier,[1] on the way to his lodge. We arrived late in the evening at
the locality in question, and finding a quantity of timber collected
on the ice, concluded that the _shanty_ must be close at hand. We
accordingly followed the lumber-track until we reached the hut which
had formerly afforded such comfortable accommodation to my companion.
Great was our disappointment, however, to find it now tenantless, and
almost buried in snow. I had made an extraordinary effort to reach the
spot in the hope of procuring good quarters for the night, and was now
so completely exhausted by fatigue that I could proceed no further.
The night was dark, and to make our situation as cheerless as
possible, it was discovered that my companion had left his
"fire-works" behind--a proof of his inexperience. Under these
circumstances our preparations were necessarily few. Having laid a few
boughs of pine upon the snow, we wrapped ourselves up in our blankets,
and lay down together. I passed the night without much rest; but my
attendant--a hardy Canadian--kept the wild beasts at bay by his deep
snoring, until dawn. I found myself completely benumbed with cold; a
smart walk, however, soon put the blood in circulation, and ere long
we entered a shanty where we experienced the usual hospitality of
these generous folks. Here we borrowed a "smoking-bag," containing a
steel, flint, and tinder. With the aid of these desiderata in the
appointments of a voyageur, we had a comfortable encampment on the
following night.

[1] The hut used by the lumbermen, and the root of the
well-known "shanty."

The mode of constructing a winter encampment is simply this:--you
measure with your eye the extent of ground you require for your
purpose, then taking off your snow-shoes, use them as shovels to clear