But where were the dogs?
He yelled in alarm.

Then little mounds of white, scattered here and there became animated, heaved, rocked and rose to dogs.

Blankets of snow had been their covering.
Rea had ceased his "Jackoway out of wood," for a reiterated question: "Where are the wolves ?" "Lost," replied Jones in hollow humor.
Near the close of that day, in which they had resumed travel, from the crest of a ridge they descried a long, low, undulating dark line.

It proved to be the forest of "Little sticks," where, with grateful assurance of fire and of soon finding their old trail, they made camp.
"We've four biscuits left, an' enough tea for one drink each," said Rea.

"I calculate we're two hundred miles from Great Slave Lake.