when jonas bellew set off in search of the rumoured wreck, as related in a previous chapter, he passed the cliff fort without calling there, partly because he did not wish to waste time, and partly because he had no desire to hold converse at that time with mr smart, who, he rightly suspected, must have shared in redding’s suspicions as to the intentions of the mcleods.

making a straight cut, therefore, across the bay in front of the fur-trading establishment, on ice that had not yet been floated away, he gained the land below the fort and continued his journey down the coast. that night he slept in the snow.

let not the reader entertain the mistaken idea that such a sleeping-place was either cold, wet, or uncomfortable. it was the reverse of all that, being warm, dry, and cosy. the making of this bed we record here, for the benefit of housemaids, and all whom it may concern.

first of all, the sturdy trapper walked along the coast, sometimes on snow-shoes when fields of snow-covered ice projected out to sea; at other times on foot, with the snow-shoes slung over his back, when long stretches of sand or shingly beach, from which the ice had been swept away, presented themselves. this process of progression he continued till night began to close upon him. then he bethought him of encamping, and retired to the neighbouring woods for the purpose.

the woods referred to consisted chiefly of pines, which fringed the base of the precipitous hills by which that part of the gulf of saint lawrence is bordered. here he selected the largest tree he could find, and threw down his bundle of food and blankets under the flat spreading branches thereof. resting one of his snow-shoes against the stem of the tree, he proceeded to dig a huge hole in the snow, using his other snow-shoe as a shovel. the operation cost him much labour, for he had to dig completely down to the ground, and the snow in the woods was still between three and four feet deep. when a hole of ten feet long by five broad was thus cleared to the bottom, the natural walls were raised by the snow thrown out, to a total height of about six feet. this was bellew’s bedchamber. the spreading pine-branches overhead were its admirable roof. next, the trapper cut down a young pine, with the tender branches of which he covered the floor of his chamber to a depth of ten or twelve inches. this was his mattress, and a soft, warm, elastic one it was, as the writer of this narrative can testify from personal experience. the head of the mattress rested against the stem of the pine tree, and a convenient root thereof served bellew for a pillow. at the foot of the bed he had left the floor of his chamber uncovered; this was his fireplace, and in the course of ten minutes or so he cut down and chopped into billets enough of dry wood to fill it with materials for a splendid fire. these being arranged, with a core of dry moss and broken twigs in the centre, the patient man struck a light by means of flint, steel, and tinder, and applied it. while the first few tongues of fire were crackling in the core of moss, he spread a thick blanket on his bed, and then stood up leisurely to fill his pipe and dreamily to watch the kindling of the fire.

and this was a sight worth watching, for the change in the aspect of affairs was little short of miraculous. before the flames shot forth, jonas bellew, looking over the edge of a black hole that was disagreeably suggestive of a tomb, could dimly perceive a stretch of cold, grey, ghostly forest, through the openings of which hummocks of ice could be seen floating away over the black waters of the sea. the little starlight that prevailed only served to render darkness visible, and thus to increase the desolate aspect of the scene. but when the ruddy flames began to shoot forth and tip with a warm glow the nearest projections, they brought out in startling prominence the point of bellew’s nose and the bowl of his little pipe. continuing to gain strength they seemed to weaken the force of distant objects in proportion as they intensified those that were near. the pale woods and dark waters outside deepened into invisible black, while the snow-walls of bellew’s chamber glowed as if on fire, and sparkled as if set with diamonds. the tree stem became a ruddy column, with bellew’s shadow lying black as ink against it, and the branches above became like a red-hot roof.

it may, perhaps, be supposed that the snow-walls melted under this ordeal; nothing of the sort. their tendency to do so was checked effectually, not only by a sharp frost, but by the solid backing of snow behind them; and the little that did give way in close proximity to the fire ran unobtrusively down to the earth and crept away under the snow towards the sea, for bellew had made his camp with the fire at its lower end, so that not a drop of water could by any means reach the spot whereon he lay.

having stuffed his little tin can or kettle with snow, he put this on the fire to melt, and then spread out his bacon and biscuit, and sugar and tea, all of which being in course of time prepared, he sat down to enjoy himself, and felt, as well as looked, supremely happy.

then jonas bellew went on his knees and prayed—for he was one of those men who do not think it unmanly to remember the giver of all that they enjoy—and thereafter he rolled himself in his blanket, pillowed his head on the tree-root, and sank into profound repose—such repose as is known only to healthy infants and hard-working men and women. little by little the fire burnt low, the ruddy lights grew dim, the pale lights reappeared, and the encampment resumed its tomb-like appearance until the break of another day gave it a new aspect and caused jonas bellew to rise, yawn, shake the hoar-frost from his blanket, pack up his traps, and resume his journey.