weather for snowshoe travel, and the boys all felt fit again for another hard day.

After breakfast, therefore, they packed the supplies upon the toboggan, unscrewed the steel runners, and put on the new snowshoes.

"We'd better stick to the river," Peter remarked. "It may make it a little farther, but it gives us a clear road, and if we follow the river we can't miss the cabin."

"No danger of going through air-holes in the ice?" queried Fred.

"Not much. An air-hole isn't generally big enough to let a snowshoe go through. We'll pull you out if you do. Come along."

Off they went again. But they had not gone far before discovering that travel was going to be less easy than they had thought. The snow was light and the snowshoes sank deep. They moved in a cloud of puffing white powder, and the heavy toboggan went down so that it was difficult to draw it. Without the smooth, level road of the river they could hardly have progressed at all.

They braced themselves to the work and plodded on, taking turns at going first to break the road. The sun shone down in a white dazzle. There was no heat in it, but the glare was so strong that they had to pull their caps low over their eyes for fear of snow-blindness—the most deadly enemy of the winter traveler in the North. During the forenoon they thought they made hardly more than ten miles, and at noon they halted, made a fire and boiled tea.

The hot drink and an hour's rest made them ready for the road again. Twice that afternoon they had to make a long détour through the woods to avoid unfrozen rapids, and once the brush was so dense that they had to cut a way for the toboggan with the axe. Once, too, the ice suddenly cracked under Fred's foot, and he flung himself forward just in time to avoid the black water gushing up through the snowed-over air-hole.

The life of the wilderness was beginning to emerge after the storm. Along the shores they saw the tracks of mink. Once they encountered a plunging trail across the river where several timber wolves must have crossed the night before, and late in the afternoon Maurice shot a couple of spruce grouse in a thicket. He flung them on the toboggan, and they arrived at camp that night frozen into solid lumps.

It was plainly impossible to reach the cabin that day. Peter, who was keenly on the lookout, failed to recognize any of the landmarks.

"We'd better camp early, boys," he said. "We can't make it to-day, and there's no use in getting snowshoe cramp and being tied up for a week."

They kept on, however, till the sun was almost down. A faint but piercing northwest breeze had arisen, and they halted in the lee of a dense cedar thicket close to the river. A huge log had fallen down the shore, and this would make an excellent backing for the fire during the night.

Drawing up the toboggan, the boys took off their snowshoes and began to shovel out a circular pit for the camp. The snow had drifted deep in that spot. Before they came to the bottom the snow was heaped so high that the pit was shoulder-deep. It was all the better for shelter, and they cut cedar poles and roofed one side of it, producing a most cozy and sheltered nook.

Fred continued to pull cedar twigs for bedding, while Peter and Maurice unpacked the toboggan and lighted the fire against the big log. Now that it was laid bare this log proved to be indeed a monster. It must have been nearly three feet in diameter, and was probably hollow, but would keep the fire smouldering indefinitely. Fred plucked the frozen grouse with some difficulty, cut them up and put them into the kettle to thaw out and stew.

This consumed some time, and it was rather late when supper was ready. A bitterly cold night was setting in. The icy breeze whined through the trees, but the sheltered pit of the camp was a warm and cozy place, casting its firelight high into the branches overhead.

Snowshoe cramp had attacked none of the boys, but the unaccustomed muscles were growing stiff and sore. By Macgregor's advice they all took off moccasins and stockings and massaged their calves and ankles thoroughly, afterwards roasting them well before the fire. One side of the big log was a glowing red ember now, and they piled fresh wood beside it, laid the rifles ready, and crept into their sleeping-bags under the shelter.

Fred did not know how long he had slept when he was awakened by a sort of nervous shock. He raised his head and glanced about. All was still in the camp. His companions lay motionless in their bags. The fire had burned low, and the air of the zero night cut his face like a knife. He could not imagine what had awakened him, but he felt that he ought to get up and replenish the fire and he was trying to make up his mind to crawl out of his warm nest when he was startled by a sort of dull, jarring rumble.

It seemed to come from the fire itself. Fred uttered a scared cry that woke both the other boys instantly.

"What's the matter? What is it?" they both exclaimed.

Before Fred could answer, there was a sort of upheaval. The fire was dashed aside. Smoke and ashes flew in every direction, and they had a cloudy glimpse of something charging out through the smoke—something huge and black and lightning quick.

"Jump! Run!" yelled Peter, scrambling to get out of his sleeping-bag.

At the shout and scramble the animal wheeled like a flash and plunged at the side of the pit, trying to reach the top with a single leap. It fell short, and came down in a cloud of snow.

Fred had got clear from the encumbering bag by this time, and floundered out of the pit without knowing exactly how he did it. He found Maurice close behind him. Peter missed his footing and tumbled back with a horrified yell, and Maurice seized him by the leg as he went down and dragged him back bodily.

Before they recovered from their panic they bolted several yards away, plunging knee-deep in the drifts, and then Peter stopped.

"Hold on!" he exclaimed. "It isn't after us!"

"But what was it?" stammered Maurice, out of breath.

Looking back, they could see nothing but the faint glow from the scattered brands. But they could not overlook the whole interior of the camp, where the intruder must be now lying quiet.

Trying to collect himself, Fred told how he had been awakened.

"It came straight out of the fire!" he declared.

"Out of the log, I guess," said Peter. "Here, I know what it must be. It's simply a bear!"

"A bear!" ejaculated Fred.

"Yes, a bear, that must have had his winter den in that big log. He was hibernating there, and our fire burned into his den and roused him out. That's all."

"Quite enough, I should think," said Maurice. "Bears are ugly-tempered when they're disturbed from their winter dens, I've heard. He's got possession of our camp, now. What'll we do?"

"We'll freeze if we don't do something pretty quick," Fred added.

In fact the boys were standing in stockinged feet in the snow, and the night was bitterly cold. All looked quiet in what they could see of the camp.

"I don't see why one of us hadn't the wit to grab a gun!" said Peter bitterly.

He turned and began to wade back cautiously toward the camp. The other boys followed him, till they were close enough to look into the pit. No animal was in sight.

"Perhaps he's bolted out the other side," muttered Peter. "Who's going to go down there and find out?"

Nobody volunteered. If the bear was still in the camp he must be under the roofed-over shelter, and, in fact, as they stood shivering and listening they heard a sound of stirring about under the cedar poles of the roof.

"He's there!" exclaimed Fred.

"And eating up our stores, as like as not!" cried Maurice.

This made the case considerably more serious.

"We must get him out of that!" Macgregor exclaimed.

How to do it was the difficulty, and, still more, how to do it with safety. Both the rifles were still lying loaded under the shelter, probably under the