upon him.

Reluctantly he retraced his steps. In a little while his tracks were
all covered, and not a landmark that he had noted on his inward
journey was visible through the blinding snow. He reached the ridge in
safety, however, and crossed it and then took the direction that he
believed would carry him to the camp, using the wind, which had been
blowing from the westward all day, as his guide. Towards dark he came
to what he supposed was the clump of trees where he had left his tent
in the morning, but no tent was there.

"'Tis wonderful strange!" he exclaimed as he stood for a moment in
uncertainty.

He was quite positive it was the right place, and he looked for axe
cuttings, where he had chopped down trees for fire-wood, and found
them. So, this was the place, but where was the tent? He was
mystified. He searched up and down every corner of the grove, but
found no clue. Could the Nascaupees have found his camp and carried
his things away? There was no other solution.

"'Th' Nascaupees has took un. The Nascaupees has sure took un," he
said dejectedly, when he realized that the tent was really gone.

His situation was now desperate. He had no axe with which to build a
temporary shelter or cut wood for a fire. The nearest cover was his
tilt, and to reach it in the blinding, smothering snow-storm seemed
hopeless. Already the cold was eating to his bones and he knew he must
keep moving or freeze to death.