for the North.




CHAPTER V

A NIGHT'S WATCH


Winter began unusually soon and a blizzard raged about the shack one
evening when Scott and Thirlwell sat near the stove. The small room
smelt of hot-iron and the front of the stove glowed a dull red, but the
men shivered as the bitter draughts swept in. Thirlwell watched the skin
curtain he had nailed across the window bulge while the snow beat
savagely against the glass, and then picked up a book. Presently Scott
hung a bearskin on the back of his chair.

"It's a pretty good hide although the forequarter's cut away," he said.
"Still I don't know that I wanted the thing and reckon the half-breed
who sold it me got its value in cartridges and food. Now transport's
difficult, I hope he and his Indian friends won't bring us any more of
the damaged stock they can't sell to the Hudson's Bay."

Thirlwell nodded. The rivers were frozen and canoeing was stopped, while
the bush was deep in fresh, loose snow. It would be a long and strenuous
business to break a trail to the south, and in winter the mine was often
cut off from the settlements. Provisions sometimes ran short, but Scott
found it hard to refuse the starving Indians a share of his supplies.