Scarce a word was spoken as they trudged on. Amesbury and Ahmik kept the silence born of long life in the wilderness where men exist by pitting human skill against animal instinct, and learn from the wild creatures they stalk the lesson of necessary silence and acute listening. Dan, too, in his hunting experiences with his father, had learned to some degree the same lesson, and Paul had small inclination to talk, for he needed all his breath to hold the rapid pace. Rime had settled upon their clothing, and dawn revealed them white as the snow over which they passed. The moisture from their eyes froze upon their eyelashes, and now and again it was found necessary to pick it off, painfully, as they walked. The sun was two hours high when Amesbury and Ahmik suddenly halted, and when Paul and Dan, who had fallen considerably in the rear, overtook them, Ahmik was cutting wood, while Amesbury, lighting a fire, was singing: “‘Polly put the kettle on, Polly put the kettle on, Polly put the kettle on, And let’s drink tea.’” “How are you standing it, fellows?” he asked, looking up. “Not bad, sir,” answered Dan. “I’m about tuckered out, and as empty as a drum!” exclaimed Paul. “Pretty hard pull for raw recruits,” said Amesbury, laughing. “But wait till tomorrow! Cheer up! The worst is yet to come.” “I hope it won’t be any harder than this,” and Paul sat wearily down upon his toboggan. “No,” encouraged Amesbury, “better snowshoeing, if anything. But there’s the wear and tear. You’ll have a hint of it tonight, and know all about it tomorrow.” “I finds th’ snowshoein’ not so bad today,” said Dan, “but I’m thinkin’ now I knows what you means. I had un bad last year when I goes out wi’ Dad. ’T were wonderful bad, too. I were findin’ it wonderful hard t’ walk with th’ stiffness all over me when I first starts in th’ mornin’, but th’ stiffness wears off after a bit, an’ I’m not mindin’ un after.” “That’s it. You’re on,” laughed Amesbury, as he chipped some ice from a frozen brook to fill the kettle for tea. “Very hard, you find him,” broke in Ahmik, joining in Amesbury’s laugh. “You get use to him quick. Walk easy like Mr. Amesbury and me soon. No hard when use to him.” Ahmik was growing more talkative upon acquaintance, and drawing out of the natural reticence of his race with strangers, as is the way of Indians when they learn to know and like one. It was a hard afternoon for Paul, and he had to summon all his grit and fortitude to keep going without complaint until the night halt was finally made, but he did his share of the camp work, nevertheless, with a will, and when the tent was pitched and wood cut he sat down more weary than he had ever been in his life.