On the morrow Gaytchi Mohkamarn concluded it was time to look after his wife, who had now starved for nearly four days, and after breakfast went off with some meat for her; the rest spent the day in cutting up the animals bought the day before. Next morning Gaytchi Mohkamarn turned up again, with wife and dog-sleigh, with effects, moving to camp by the animals he had killed, and reported that a good many Indians would shortly arrive on their way to join him. All were in a starving condition, not having tasted food for several days, and their prospects for the remainder of the winter were very unpromising, for no buffalo could be found. It seemed that our party, by the greatest good luck in the world, struck exactly the place where the only buffalo left in the district were at the time. During the day family after family came in--a spectral cavalcade: the men, gaunt and wan, marching before skeleton dogs, almost literally skin and bone, with hide drawn tightly and unpadded over “crate and basket, ribs and spine;” dragging painfully along sleighs as attenuated and empty of provisions as themselves. The women and children brought up the rear, who, to the credit of the men, be it recorded, were in far better case, indeed tolerably plump, and contrasting strangely with the fleshless forms of the other sex. Although the Indian squaws and children are kept in subjection, and the work falls principally upon them, it is erroneous to suppose that they are ill-treated, or that the women labour harder or endure greater hardships than the men.