The winter began to set in, and the river having frozen over, we left the canoes, the dried venison, the beaver, and some flour and pork; and when we had gone further north, say about sixty miles from the white settlements, for the purpose of hunting, the snow fell for five days in succession, to such a depth, that it was impossible to shoot or trap anything; our provisions were exhausted, and we had no means of procuring any more.

Here we were, the snow about five feet deep, our wigwam buried, the branches of the trees falling all about us, and cracking with the weight of the snow.
"Our mother (who seems, by-the-bye, from the record of her son, to have been a most excellent woman) boiled birch-bark for my sister and myself, that we might not starve.

On the seventh day some of us were so weak they could not guard themselves, and others could not stand alone.

They could only crawl in and out of the wigwam.

We parched beaver skins and old mocassins for food.