Rod now found himself suffering from that sure affliction of every tenderfoot in the far North--snow-blindness.

For only a few minutes at a time could he stand the dazzling reflections of the snow-waste where nothing but white, flashing, scintillating white, seemingly a vast sea of burning electric points in the sunlight, met his aching eyes.

On the second day after the storm, while Wabi was still inuring Rod to the changed world and teaching him how to accustom his eyes to it gradually, Mukoki left the cabin to follow the chasm in his search for the first waterfall.
That same day Wabi began his work of digging out and resetting the traps, but it was not until the day following that Rod's eyes would allow him to assist.

The task was a most difficult one; rocks and other landmarks were completely hidden, and the lost traps averaged one out of four.

It was not until the end of the second day after Mukoki's departure that the young hunters finished the mountain trap-line, and when they turned their faces toward camp just at the beginning of dusk it was with the expectant hope that they would find the old Indian awaiting them.