The snow was driving through the forests and over the plains of the North American wilderness¹; the wind was shrieking² among the tree-tops, and whirling the drift in great clouds high up into the frosty air; and the sun was setting in a glow of fiery³ red, when, on the last day of the year, Robin⁴ Gore⁵ and his followers⁶ came to an abrupt⁷ halt, and, with one consent, admitted that “the thing was impossible.”

“We can’t do it, boys,” said Robin, resting his rifle against a tree; “so it’s o’ no use to try. The Fort is good ten miles off, an’ the children are dead beat—”

“No they ain’t,” interrupted Roy, whose tone and aspect, however, proved that his father’s statement was true; “at least I’m not beat yet—I’m game for two or three hours more.”

“Well, lad, p’raps ye are, but Nelly ain’t; so we’ll camp here, an’ take ’em by surprise in the morning early.”

Nelly, who had been carried on the backs of those who had broadest shoulders during the last dozen miles, smiled faintly when spoken to, and said she was “ve–y s’eepy!”

So they set to work in the usual style, and were soon comfortably seated in their snowy encampment.

Next morning before dawn Robin awoke them.

“Ho!” he cried, “get up, lads, look alive! A happy New Year to ’ee all, young an’ old, red an’ white. Kiss me, Nell, dear—a shake o’ yer paw, Roy. An’ it’s a good New Year’s day, too, in more ways than one, praise the Almighty⁹ for that.”

The whole party was astir immediately, and that feeling of

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