I beat my feet against the saddle to restore the circulation, when they became benumbed with the cold, until they were so bruised I could beat them no longer.
Not a house or wigwam, not even a clump of trees as a shelter, offered itself for many a weary mile.

At length we reached the west fork of the Du Page.

It was frozen, but not sufficiently so to bear the horses.

Our only resource was to cut a way for them through the ice.

It was a work of time, for the ice had frozen to several inches in thickness during the last bitter night.