He laid his shoes on the crust of ice beside him.

Of course, if found there by a large party of warriors on snowshoes he would have no chance to flee, but he was willing to take what seemed to him a small risk.

The dark would not be long in coming, and it was snug and warm in the hole.

As he sat, his head rose just above the surrounding ice, but his rifle barrel rose much higher.

He ate a little venison for supper, and the weariness in the ankles that comes from long traveling on snowshoes disappeared.
He could not see outside the bushes, but he listened with those uncommonly keen ears of his.