the pattern of it. His snow-shoes were of a shape used only by an Indian tribe of the far Northwest.
McLaggan was startled and humiliated. His woodcraft had failed him grossly. He took out his pipe, filled and lit it defiantly, and then studied his surroundings. Yes, he remembered those three tall spruces on the right, too gaunt to carry any cloak of snow. He had passed them about the middle of the afternoon. He was good and lost. "A pretty damn fool!" he laughed bitterly. Of course, he could retrace his tracks back to the camp—the only sensible thing to do! But then, the shame of it! The mockery that would greet him! And the night would be dark, for there was no moon, and the sky was overcast. There would be only the misleading, ghostly glimmer of the—snow to find his way by. Further, in his confidence he had indulged his cheery appetite and consumed every scrap of his supplies for lunch. And in that devouring cold he was already fiercely hungry. There was nothing for it but to make camp for the night, keep up a good fire, and console himself with his pipe. With the first of the morning light he would strike onward again for the settlement; and this time he would be more careful of his direction.
Having no cutting implement with him but his heavy hunting knife, McLaggan's first care was
