“Not a shilling’s worth,” repeated the factor, whose anger was not appeased when he heard Amesbury humming, as he passed out of the door: “‘A diller, a dollar, a ten o’clock scholar, What made you come so soon? You used to come at ten o’clock, But now you come at noon.’” It was to be expected that MacTavish would refuse them shelter for the night, but he made no reference to it, probably because in his anger he forgot to do so, and the following morning, when his wrath had cooled, he astonished Paul and Dan when he met them with, for him, a very cheery greeting. On New Year’s morning Amesbury and Ahmik visited the Indian encampment, and with little difficulty secured from their Indian friends two light toboggans for Paul and Dan to use in the transportation of their equipment. The day was spent in taking part in snowshoe obstacle races, rifle matches, and many contests with the Indian visitors, and the evening in final preparations for departure. In early morning, before the bell called the post folk to their daily task, they passed out of the men’s house for the last time. Tammas, Amos and Samuel were sorry to lose their young friends and assistants, but glad of their good fortune. “I’ll be missin’ ye, laddies. God bless ye,” said Tammas. “Aye, God bless ye,” repeated Samuel. “Hi ’opes you’ll ’ave a pleasant trip. Tyke care of yourselves,” was Amos’s hearty farewell. They turned their faces toward the vast dark wilderness to the westward, redolent with mystery and fresh adventure. Presently the flickering lights of the post, which a few weeks before they had hailed so joyously, were lost to view. CHAPTER XVII THE SNOWSHOE JOURNEY TO INDIAN LAKE There was yet no hint of dawn. Moon and stars shone cold and white out of a cold, steel-blue sky. The moisture of the frozen atmosphere, shimmering particles of frost, hung suspended in space. The snow crunched and creaked under their swiftly moving snowshoes. They traveled in single file, after the fashion of the woods. Amesbury led, then followed Ahmik, after him Paul, with Dan bringing up the rear. Each hauled a toboggan, and though Paul’s and Dan’s were much less heavily laden than Amesbury’s and Ahmik’s, the lads had difficulty in keeping pace with the long, swinging half-trot of the trapper and Indian. Presently they entered the spruce forest of a river valley, dead and cold, haunted by weird shadows, flitting ghostlike hither and thither across ghastly white patches of moonlit snow. Now and again a sharp report, like a pistol shot, startled them. It was the action of frost upon the trees, a sure indication of extremely low temperature. Dawn at length began to break--slowly--slowly--dispersing the grotesque and ghostlike shadows. As dawn melted into day, the real took the place of the unreal, and the frigid white wilderness that had engulfed them presented its true face to the adventurous travelers.