Then they rolled the great stones before the door, and Tayoga said: "Now, we will imitate our friends, the bears, and take a long winter sleep." Both were soon slumbering soundly in their blankets and furs, and all that night and all the next day the snow fell on the high mountains in the heart of which they lay.

There was no wind, and it came straight down, making an even depth on ridge, slope and valley.

It blotted out the mouths of the caves, and it clothed all the forest in deep white.
Robert and Tayoga were but two motes, lost in the vast wilderness, which had returned to its primeval state, and the Indians themselves, whether hostile or friendly, sought their villages and lodges and were willing to leave the war trail untrodden until the months of storm and bitter cold had passed.
Robert slept heavily.

His labors in preparation for the winter had been severe and unremitting, and his nerves had been keyed very high by the arrival of the bears and the singular quality in the air.

Now, nature claimed her toll, and he did not awake until nearly noon, Tayoga having preceded him a half hour.