Well, I traveled about with my people as they moved their traps, and one night when very tired I slept in damp moccasins.

The fire got low and next morning my foot was slightly frozen.

We were forced to make long marches for some days, and I found the frost-bite had gone deeper than I thought.

You can, no doubt, guess what happened." Thirlwell nodded.

A frozen foot sometimes galls into a sore that will not heal while the temperature is low.
"Well," said Father Lucien, "some time after we pitched camp, a man came in with a dog-team that belonged to the Hudson's Bay.