I remember hearing father tell him over and over again to be careful, which he promised by crossing himself; being a Catholic he took that way to express himself and let father know he meant to be faithful. Bob was also told to watch over us children, which he understood. At last they were ready to start, all bundled up in heavy, warm clothing. We two smaller children were crying and hanging on to them when mother said, "Now listen children, be good and mind all that grandpa tells you. Don't you know poor John has no one with him, his mother is dead?" We were quiet, but sorrowful. Oh, how little we children could realize or understand the awful, dangerous trip our father and mother were about to undertake! Grandpa realized it and tried so hard to keep them from going. The snow was very deep, weather extremely cold, with bears and wolves to be encountered at every step as soon as darkness came on. THEIR STORY OF THEIR JOURNEY AS THEY TOLD IT TO ME IN AFTER YEARS. "We traveled along the beach inside the ice banks, as snow was not quite so deep there and we felt safer from wolves. It was noon when we left home. We had about fifteen miles to go, I think, to reach Birch Point. The wind was keen and cut like a knife in our faces. I made your mother walk right behind me, knowing she could never stand the sharp wind. About two o'clock it began to snow so hard it was blinding in our faces. We kept on, and after awhile I saw your mother began to lag and could not keep up even when I walked slowly. It was already getting dark, as the days were so short. At last she said. 'Walter, I am afraid I can't keep up any longer.' I said to her, 'Yes, you must keep up, we will sit and rest a little while, then you can walk better.' While we sat there we heard the bark of a wolf not far off, and well we knew what that sound meant. I knew then that our only hope was to reach a small shanty about a mile and a half further on. I said, 'Come mother, we must get to the little shanty, there we'll stay till morning.' This gave her new courage, and we pressed on through the blinding storm, snow being deeper at every step. I took her arm and we got on quite fast for a time. We still had over a half mile to go before we reached the shanty and I saw it was now a great effort for her to walk. She now began to worry about the children. I told her grandpa would be faithful and take good care of them and that we must hurry and try to reach the little shanty. I did not tell her of my fears, there being a possibility that it might be gone, taken away for its lumber by some fishermen along the shore in the fall. The snow became so deep it was hard to travel, and I could see she was getting weaker all the time. All at once the barking of wolves began first here then there, in every direction except on the lake side. We kept very close to the ice banks. I saw your mother could keep up no longer. The wolves were gathering from all sides and I realized our only