upon the branches over head.  It was evidently not far from morning, and every hope of present escape entirely fled from her bosom.  But just as she was yielding to despair, she saw the Indian returning in a stealthy pace, bearing some dark object in his arms.  He glided to her side, and beckoned her to leave the snow-canoe, and also to take with her all the robes with which she had been enveloped.  She did his bidding, and then he carefully deposited the burden he bore in the place she had just occupied.  A portion of the object becoming unwrapped, Mary discovered it to be a huge mass of snow, resembling, in some respects, a human form, and the Indian’s stratagem was at once apparent to her.  Relinquishing herself to his guidance, she was led noiselessly through the bushes about a hundred paces distant from the fire, to a large fallen tree that had yielded to some furious storm, when her conductor paused.  He pointed to a spot where a curve caused the huge trunk to rise about a foot from the present surface, under which was a round hole cut through the drifted snow down to the earth, and in which were deposited several buffalo robes, and so arranged that a person could repose within without coming in contact with the frozen element around.  Mary looked down, and then at her companion, to ascertain his intentions.  He spoke to her in a low tone, enough of which she comprehended to understand that he desired her to descend into the pit without delay.  She obeyed, and when he had carefully folded the robes and divers furs about her body, he stepped a few paces to one side, and gently lifting up a round lid of snow-crust, placed it over the aperture.  It had been so smoothly cut, and fitted with such precision when replaced, that no one would have been able to discover that an incision had been made.  He then bade Mary a “Dud by” in bad English, and set off in a run in a northern direction for the purpose of joining the whites.

Long and interminable seemed Mary’s confinement to her, but she was entirely comfortable in her hiding-place, as respected her body.  Yet many dreadful apprehensions oppressed her still.  She feared that the Indians would soon ascertain that she had left the canoe, and return and discover her place of concealment.  At times she thought of the wild beasts prowling around, and feared they would devour her before assistance came.  But the most harrowing fear was that the friendly Indian would abandon her to her fate or perhaps be killed, without making known her locality and helpless condition!  Thus was she a prey to painful apprehensions and worrying reflections, until from exhaustion she sank into an unquiet and troubled slumber.

With the first light of morning, the war-party sprang to their feet, and hastily dispatching a slight repast, they set out on their journey with renewed animation and increased rapidity.  Before starting, the chief called to Mary, and again offered some food; but no reply being returned, or motion discovered under the robe which he imagined enveloped her, he supposed she was sleeping, and directed the party to select the most even route when they emerged in the prairie, that she might as much as possible enjoy her repose.