What she said was true, and winter started in earnest the very next day, snowing for the best part of a week, and then turning off bitterly cold. Yet firewood was to be had in plenty and the cabin was kept warm and comfortable for all. "We've had some great times this past season," said Barringford, as he warmed himself by the cheerful kitchen blaze. "Great times, eh, White Buffalo?" The Indian chief, who had come in to smoke a friendly pipe, nodded. "My brother Sam is right," he said. "But all has gone well, so let us be thankful." "Yes, let us be thankful," came from Dave. And they were thankful; and here let us leave them, wishing them the best of luck for the future. THE END End of Project Gutenberg's On the Trail of Pontiac, by Edward Stratemeyer