Of course Cabot had removed his snowshoes, but, as the young Indian had
done the same thing, both were compelled to readjust these
all-important articles, without which they would have floundered
helplessly in the deep snow.
Arsenic was off first, and though Cabot chased him hotly he could not
overcome the advantage thus gained. Being also much less expert in the
management of snowshoes, he tripped several times, and finally pitched
headlong. When he next regained his feet Arsenic had disappeared in
the timber, and our lad realised the futility of a further pursuit.
Now, too, he noticed that the sky had become heavily overcast, and that
a strong wind was soughing ominously through the tree tops.
"It must be later than I thought," he reflected, "and high time for me
to be getting back to camp." With this he hastily gathered a bundle of
sticks to be used as firewood and started, as he supposed, towards the
open; but so confused was he, and so many turns did he make, that more
than half an hour was wasted before he finally emerged from the timber.
Here he was dismayed to find that snow was falling, or rather being
driven in straight lines by the wind, which had increased to the force
of a gale.
"I've got to hump myself to reach camp before dark, but I'll make it
all right," he remarked to himself, as he set forth across the white
plain.
He took a diagonal course that he hoped would lead him to the trail,
but by the time all landmarks were obliterated by the descending night
he had failed to find it.
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