Only--you know it very well, Mr.
Chapdelaine--when the Indians take that journey it is in company, and with their dogs.

Francois set of alone, on snow-shoes, pulling his blankets and provisions on a toboggan." No one had uttered a word to hasten or check the speaker.

They listened as to him whose story's end stalks into view, before the eyes but darkly veiled, like a figure drawing near who hides his face.
"You will remember the weather a week before Christmas-the heavy snow that fell, and after it the nor'west gale.

It happened that was then in the great burnt lands, where the fine snow drives and drifts so terribly.

In such a place the best of men have little chance when it is very cold and the storm lasts.