It was by this time about midnight, the snow was falling heavily, and the cold intensely bitter. Although the Hunter’s speech was tolerably articulate, he walked with difficulty, and it was only by the reluctant assistance of his son that he was able to get the sleigh ready. He then sullenly took his departure, accompanied by Misquapamayoo, who was in the greatest distress at his father’s misbehaviour. Their road lay across an arm of the lake, and ere long Keenamontiayoo, overcome by the liquor he had drunk, and benumbed by the intense cold, became incapable of walking, and crawled along on hands and knees. Before the lake was crossed he completely collapsed, lay down in the snow, and fell heavily asleep. Misquapamayoo, in utter terror and dismay, yet with unfailing readiness of resource, roused him violently, and half dragged, half led him into a clump of trees at the side of the lake. Here he immediately relapsed into a deep sleep, whilst his son quickly collected wood and made a fire. Then, wrapping his father in the blankets carried on the sleigh, he laid him alongside the fire, and with affectionate care sat out the wearisome hours of night, sedulously feeding the kindly flame, and though shivering and half frozen himself, disdaining to deprive his helpless parent of a blanket. Dutifully the boy watched whilst his father slept hour after hour, until the sun was high in the heavens, when the man at last awoke, sober and unharmed, and the homeward journey was renewed. After the departure of the Hunter and his boy, we quietly retired to rest without further disturbance. In the morning we dispatched “The Wolf” to White Fish Lake, with a message for the erring Keenamontiayoo, urging him to return to his duty. The day passed without either of them making their appearance, and at night we held council together as to what course we should pursue if we were left entirely to our own resources. The man had carried back with him all the meat he had brought for us, and our stock of pemmican was getting low. On the following morning, however, we were much relieved by the arrival of the delinquent Hunter, accompanied by his son and “The Wolf,” and bringing a sleigh load of moose meat as before. It appeared that the two had not reached home until long after “The Wolfs” arrival at the hut the day before--until dark indeed--and were too exhausted to return at once. Keenamontiayoo was exceedingly penitent, shook hands with us fervently, exclaiming that he had been “namooya quiusk, namooya quiusk” (not straight, not straight); _i.e._, had not acted rightly, but assured us that it was the only time he had ever done so in all his life, and he would never do the like again. We readily made peace, and all was serene once more.