During these few days old acquaintanceships are renewed and new ones are made.

It is here that the "news" of the trackless wilderness is spread, the news of deaths, of marriages, and of births; of tragic happenings that bring horror and grief and tears, and of others that bring laughter and joy.

For the first and last time in all the seven months' winter the people of the forests "come to town." Indian, halfbreed, "blood," and white man, join in the holiday without distinction of colour or creed.
This year there was to be a great caribou roast, a huge barbecue, at Fort O' God, and by the time Henri Durant came within half a dozen miles of the Post the trails from north and south and east and west were beaten hard by the tracks of dogs and men.

That year a hundred sledges came in from the forests, and with them were three hundred men and women and children and half a thousand dogs.
Durant was a day later than he had planned to be, but he had made good use of his time.

For Miki, while still muzzled, now followed at the end of the babiche that was tied to Henri's sledge.