Half an hour more and only a reddish glow would be where the northern sun still shone feebly.

In the far North winter night falls with the swiftness of wings; it enshrouds one like a palpable, moving thing, a curtain of gloom that can almost be touched and felt, and so it came now, as the dogs were hitched to their sledge and Rod, Mukoki and Wabigoon bade good-by to the driver of the Hudson Bay mail.
"You'll make the other side in four hours," he called, as Mukoki's cries sent the dogs trotting out upon the lake.

"And then--I'd camp!" Running on ahead Mukoki set the pace and marked the trail.

Wabi took the first turn on the sledge, and Rod, who was fresher than either of his comrades, followed close behind.

After a little he drew up beside the young Indian and placed a hand on his shoulder as he ran.
"We will reach our old camp--in the plain--to-morrow ?" he questioned, between breaths.
"To-morrow," affirmed Wabi.