The tall
pines seemed sprinkled with a silver dust, and the willows, studded with
minute icicles reflecting the prismatic rays, brought to mind the fairy
trees conjured up by the caliph's story-teller to adorn his vale of
diamonds.
The poor wanderers, however, nearly starved with hunger and cold, were
in no mood to enjoy the glories of these brilliant scenes; though they
stamped pictures on their memory which have been recalled with delight
in more genial situations.
Encamping at the west Bute, they found a place swept by the winds, so
that it was bare of snow, and there was abundance of bunch grass. Here
the horses were turned loose to graze throughout the night. Though for
once they had ample pasturage, yet the keen winds were so intense that,
in the morning, a mule was found frozen to death. The trappers gathered
round and mourned over him as over a cherished friend. They feared their
half-famished horses would soon share his fate, for there seemed scarce
blood enough left in their veins to withstand the freezing cold. To beat
the way further through the snow with these enfeebled animals seemed
next to impossible; and despondency began to creep over their hearts,
when, fortunately, they discovered a trail made by some hunting party.
Into this they immediately entered, and proceeded with less difficulty.
Shortly afterward, a fine buffalo bull came bounding across the snow and
was instantly brought down by the hunters.
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