then, for the hand-sledges run smoothly on the snow that covers fallen
trunks and underbrush and levels the hollows. The muskegs are frozen and
one can make fast marches along the rivers and across the lakes.
Thirlwell had no tent, but it is not a great hardship for a well-fed
man, wrapped in furs, to sleep beside a big fire behind a bank of snow,
and he had no misadventures as he pushed into the wilds. The ore proved
to be worthless, and soon after he started back he met an Indian who
said he had seen Father Lucien going south with a dog-team two days
before, and had found the trail of another white man near the spot where
he and his friends had camped.

The clear, cold weather broke when Thirlwell began his homeward march.
The sky was low and leaden, and a biting wind blew from the south. It
drove the snow-dust into the men's smarting faces and froze their breath
on their furs. Their hands stiffened on the sledge-traces and their feet
got numb. The cold got worse when snow began to fall and when they
camped one night Thirlwell noted that they had used more food than he
thought. The transport of provisions is perhaps the main difficulty of a
winter journey in the bush, for men who brave the arctic cold must be
generously fed. Thirlwell, however, expected to reach the mine before
their stores ran out, and set off at daybreak next morning in heavy,
driving snow.

At dusk he camped in a clump of dry willows by a river. The snow had
stopped, but a bitter wind blew down the valley and the cold was
intense. When he had eaten a meal Thirlwell sat with his back to a snow
bank and a big fire in front, holding up a moccasin to the blaze. This
was necessary because moccasins absorb moisture during a long day's
march, and the man who puts them on while damp risks getting frozen
feet.