Murdo, the guide, ran on ahead on his snow-shoes. The missionary came next. He had with him Oowikapun, the happiest man in the crowd. When the missionary could ride--which was the case where the route lay over frozen, lakes or along stretches of the rivers--Oowikapun was his driver, and rejoiced at being thus honoured. Following the missionary's train, came the other three in single file, so that those following had the advantage of the road made by the sleds and snow-shoes in front. Where the snow was very deep, or a fresh supply had recently fallen, it sometimes happened that the missionary and all the Indians had to strap on their snow-shoes, and, following in the tracks of the guide, tramp on ahead of the dogs, and thus endeavour to make a road over which those faithful animals could drag their heavy loads. When our travellers began to feel hungry a fire was quickly kindled, a kettle of tea prepared, and a hearty lunch of cold meat or pemmican was eaten and washed down with the strong tea. So vigorous are the appetites in that cold land, that often five times a day do the travellers stop for lunch. Then on they go until the setting sun tells them it is time to prepare for the wintry camp, where the night is to be spent. If they can possibly find it, they select a place where there are green balsam trees, and plenty of dry dead ones. The green ones will furnish the bed, while the dry ones will make the fire. When such a place is found a halt is called and everybody is busy. The dogs are quickly unharnessed and gambol about close to the camp and never attempt to desert.