At last, about midnight, we set off afoot up the trail to the nearest
lumber camp. Asa led the way with the lantern, and old Tommy followed
behind us with his precious traps. The camp was nearly six miles away;
it proved a hard, dismal tramp, for now the snow was seven or eight
inches deep. We reached the camp between two and three o'clock in the
morning, and roused Andrews, the foreman, and his crew of loggers. Never
was warm shelter more welcome to us.
At daybreak the next morning it was still snowing, but Andrews and eight
of his men went back with us. The horses still lay there in the snow in
a pitiful plight; we all agreed that it was better to end their
sufferings as quickly as possible.
We then went in search of the runaways, and after some time found them
huddled together in a swamp of thick firs about two miles down the
trail. We captured them without trouble and led them back to the scoot,
which we reloaded and sent on up to camp with Asa. Addison and I put
bridles on two of the horses,--Ducie and Skibo,--and rode home to the
farm.
It was dark when we got home, and no one heard us arrive. After we had
put up the horses, we went into the house with our dismal tidings.
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