Only twice on their long trip had they come upon small Indian settlements, and then a few hours' rest within the crowded and stifling huts satisfied them to resume their march. The air outside, if cold, was pure, sweet and invigorating, and these hardy, fur clad men were now accustomed to it and enjoyed it.
A fresh surprise awaited them at Pete's house. A good, large, log cabin of two rooms, lined from top to bottom with the furs of animals, and ornamented with antlers and similar trophies of the chase, made a warm and comfortable home compared to that which the white men had expected to find. A pleasant-faced squaw and several small children retreated to the inner room upon the entrance of the men from the trail. While Pete greeted his family, the visitors made notes and discussed the surprising situation.
"Gee Whiz! Who'd a thought it?"
"I thought Pete lived in an ice hut, or a teepee made of skins and sticks," said one.
"A filthy hole in the ground was what I thought we'd find," declared another.
"We're right in civilization!" exclaimed a fourth, slapping his knee in delight.
"A music box, as I live!" eyeing an old accordian in a corner.
"Well, I snum!"
The men were all talking at once.
"I'd like to take a smoke, but don't dare," said Tom MacDougall, demurely, with a wink.