“But I have my rifle!” he said bravely. Then with a swagger he added: “But I must ‘ice’ my sled ready for the morning,” and filling a tin mug with lukewarm water, and taking a piece of bearskin from off a shelf, he went out.
With a sigh Kasba took down a pair of birchwood snowshoe frames from the rack overhead and sat down to net them. The frames were her own handiwork and well made; the wood had been cleverly pared down, the cross-pieces and toes and heels beautifully fitted and turned—all done, too, with only a small knife, called a “crooked knife,” and an awl.
But lest any of my readers should fall into the error committed by the person who asked “whether snowshoes were warmer than shoes of ordinary wear,” I will here more fully describe how these indispensable aids to winter perambulations are made.
First four pieces of birch or juniper, as the case may be, are carefully selected and cut into lengths varying from three to five feet or longer, according to the size of the snowshoes desired. These pieces are then whittled down to an inch in thickness, and each two fastened together at either end, bent to the shape of an oblong oval, some ten inches across its widest part, and turned up at the toe. Then the slender frames thus made are strengthened at the forepart by two crossbars, and at the heel by one bar. This completes them and they are hung up to dry. Later on they are netted in criss-cross fashion, somewhat after the manner of a tennis racket, with babiche, that is to say, narrow strips of undressed deerskin, which are well wetted before using. The foot netting, or in other words the netting on which the foot rests, is much coarser than that used for the heel and toe of the snowshoe. Of course I am describing a Chipewyan snowshoe. Snowshoes differ a little in shape among other tribes of Indians, but the principle is the same.
CHAPTER IV.
THE MAN OF THE SHADOWS.
Roy Thursby stood watching a small black speck which was moving slowly over the white surface of the river and coming in the direction of the Fort. Overhead was a magnificent Aurora Borealis extending high in bands of flickering color; a luminous phenomenon of all the colors of the rainbow, oscillating in electric waves. The gentle sighing of the wind, and an occasional dull, muffled sound from among the ice hummocks broke the silence. Near the trader were the dark figures of Kasba and David, in fact it was they who had given the alarm, and presently there was a slight crunching sound and Broom came striding up.
Dogs appeared as if by magic, and stood erect with ears pricked up expectantly, or darted forward with noses sniffing the air.
The black speck grew rapidly larger and larger, until presently it suddenly resolved itself into two portions, one of which, the smaller of the two, quickly mended its pace and was soon distinguishable as a man. The other travelled much slower, in a serpentine movement, swaying from side to side as it dodged the huge masses of shattered ice. This was a dog-train and driver returning from a trip to an Eskimo encampment.
Before long the man in front was clambering over a prodigious snowdrift which obstructed the approach to the trading-post. He was one Minnihak, an Eskimo whom Thursby employed to run before the dogs when he sent out a trading venture.
The native lumbered forward with a broad grin. He was a droll figure from the hood of his tko-li-tok (coat) down to his ka-miks (shoes) covered with hoar-frost, and his “hairy” clothing gave him a shaggy appearance greatly resembling a white bear walking on its hind legs.