The weather had been clear and cold, but the rivers they passed, so far, were free of ice, and the roads were not blocked with snow.
Mr. Hunter had predicted a change, and one evening it came. Since morning they had passed only one solitary hut, and he explained that they were entering a section of timber where some game might be found.
At any rate, the caravan was divided, and minute instructions given for the future. Then the main party struck off into the wilderness.
The flakes began to fall thick and heavy as darkness came down. Mr. Hunter expressed his satisfaction at this.
“If we have a heavy fall of snow and it continues cold,” he said, “it will be just right for trapping. At any rate, we’ll stay here a day or two and reconnoitre.”
No camp-fire was built that night, the men huddling around their stoves in the living wagons.
It was cozy and warm for Will and Tom, but one of the drivers, whose horses had got loose and had to be hunted up, reported a severe experience.
“The snow’s getting terribly deep and blinding,” he said, “and, [as I came up to the horses, I’m sure I heard and saw a wolf].”
“We’ll keep a watch on the horses, then,” said Mr. Hunter. “Are the traps all ready for use?” he inquired of the man who had charge of the equipment wagon.