Restored by that welcome heat and food, he told them his adventures; how he had striven in vain to regain the track and make his way back to the fort; how, after weary wanderings, he had found himself at last among a little band of Indians, whose camp lay northward of the Englishmen’s hut, and who were as near famine as they. Here he had fallen ill with frostbite and rheumatism, but had been kindly succoured by the Indians, not of his tribe. He had lain in one of their shelters—not worthy to be dignified even by the name of hut—for a long time, how long he knew not, having lost consciousness during the period, and thus missed his reckoning. With recovery came the ardent desire to return to them, to show them that he had not betrayed his trust. The bank-notes sewn into his garments had escaped observation and pillage, supposing the Indians inclined to plunder their guest. He asked them to sell him provisions that he might take to his masters, tried to tempt them with liberal offers of payment, but they had unhappily nothing to sell. Buffalo had vanished from that district, the lakes and rivers were frozen. The Indians themselves were living from hand to mouth, and hardly living at all, so meagre was their fare. Convinced at last that the case was hopeless, Kekek-ooarsis had left them to return to the hut—a long and difficult journey, since in his efforts to regain the road, to the fort he had made a wide circuit. Only fidelity—the dog’s faithful allegiance to the master he loves—had brought him back to that hunger-haunted dwelling. ‘I cannot help you,’ he said piteously in his native language; ‘I have come back to die with you.’ ‘One more or less to die makes little difference,’ answered the stranger, speaking the man’s exact dialect with perfect fluency. ‘Let us see if we cannot contrive to live. You have failed once in your endeavour to find your way back to the fort. That is no reason you should fail a second time. Few great things have been done at the first attempt. Get your strength back, my friend, and you and I will set out together as soon as you are fit for the journey. I know something of the country; and with your native eyes and ears to help me, we could hardly fail.’ Kekek-ooarsis looked up at him wonderingly. He was not altogether favourably impressed by the stranger’s appearance, if one might judge by his own countenance, which expressed doubt and perplexity. ‘I will do whatever my masters bid me,’ he said submissively. His masters let him rest, and eat, and bask in the warmth of the pine-logs for two days; after which he declared himself ready to set out upon any quest they might order.