Elsie and Cora Ravenshaw were seated at a table in Willow Creek, with their mother and Miss Trim, repairing garments, one night in that same inclement January of which we have been writing.  
Mr Ravenshaw was enjoying his pipe by the stove, and Louis Lambert was making himself agreeable. The old man was a little careworn. No news had yet been received of Tony or of Victor. In regard to the latter he felt easy; Victor could take care of himself, and was in good company, but his heart sank when he thought of his beloved Tony. What would he not have given to have had him smashing his pipe or operating on his scalp at that moment.
 
“It is an awful winter,” observed Elsie, as a gust of wind seemed to nearly blow in the windows.
 
“I pity the hunters in the plains,” said Cora. “They say a rumour has come that they are starving.”
 
“I heard of that, but hope it is not true,” observed Lambert.
 
“Oh! they always talk of starving,” said old Ravenshaw. “No fear of ’em.”
 
At that moment there was a sound of shuffling in the porch, the door was thrown open, and a gaunt, haggard man, with torn, snow-sprinkled garments, pale face, and bloodshot eyes, stood pictured on the background of the dark porch.
 
“Baptiste Warder!” exclaimed Lambert, starting up.
 
“Ay, what’s left o’ me; and here’s the remains o’ Winklemann,” said Warder, pointing to the cadaverous face of the starving German, who followed him.
 
Need we say that the hunters received a kindly welcome by the Ravenshaw family, as they sank exhausted into chairs. The story of starvation, suffering, and death was soon told—at least in outline.
 
“You are hungry. When did you eat last?” asked Mr Ravenshaw, interrupting them.
 
“Two days ago,” replied Warder, with a weary smile.
 
“It seems like two veeks,” observed the German, with a sigh.
 
“Hallo! Elsie, Cora, victuals!” cried the sympathetic old man, turning quickly round.
 
But Elsie, whose perceptions were quick, had already placed bread and beer on the table.
 
“Here, have a drink of beer first,” said the host, pouring out a foaming glass.
 
Warder shook his head. Winklemann remarked that, “beer vas goot, ver goot, but they had been used to vatter of late.”
 
“Ah!” he added, after devouring half a slice of bread while waiting for Cora to prepare another; “blessed brod an’ booter! Nobody can know vat it is till he have starve for two veek—a—I mean two days; all de same ting in my feel—”
 
The entrance of a huge bite put a sudden and full stop to the sentence.
 
“Why did you not stop at some of the houses higher up the river to feed?” asked Lambert.
 
Warder explained that they meant to have done so, but they had missed their way. They had grown stupid, he thought, from weakness. When they lost the way they made straight for the river, guided by the pole-star, and the first house they came in sight of was that of Willow Creek.
 
“How can the pole-star guide one?” asked Cora, in some surprise.
 
“Don’t you know?” said Lambert, going round to where Cora sat, and sitting down beside her. “I will explain.”
 
“If I did know I wouldn’t ask,” replied Cora coquettishly; “besides, I did not put the question to you.”
 
“Nay, but you don’t object to my answering it, do you?”
 
“Not if you are quite sure you can do so correctly.”
 
“I think I can, but the doubts which you and your sister so often throw on my understanding make me almost doubt myself,” retorted Lambert, with a laughing glance at Elsie. “You must know, then, that there is a constellation named the Great Bear. It bears about as much resemblance to a bear as it does to a rattlesnake, but that’s what astronomers have called it. Part of it is much more in the shape of a plough, and one of the stars in that plough is the pole-star. You can easily distinguish it when once you know how, because two of the other stars are nearly in line with it, and so are called ‘pointers.’ When you stand looking at the pole-star you are facing the north, and of course, when you know where the north is, you can tell all the other points of the compass.”
 
It must not be supposed that the rest of the party listened to this astronomical lecture. The gallant Louis had sought to interest Elsie as well as Cora, but Elsie was too much engrossed with the way-worn hunters and their sad tale to think of anything else. When they had eaten enough to check the fierce cravings of hunger they related more particulars.
 
“And now,” said Warder, sitting erect and stretching his long arms in the air as if the more to enjoy the delightful sensation of returning strength, “we have pushed on at the risk of our lives to save time. This news must be carried at once to the Governor. The Company can help us best in a fix like this.”
 
“Of course, of course; I shall send word to him at once,” said his host.
 
“All right, Baptiste,” said Lambert, coming forward, “I expected you’d want a messenger. Here I am. Black Dick’s in the stable. He’ll be in the cariole in ten minutes. What shall I say to the Governor?”
 
“I’ll go with you,” answered Warder.
 
“So vill I,” said Winklemann.
 
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” retorted Ravenshaw. “You both need rest. A sound sleep will fit you to do your work more actively in the morning. I myself will go to the fort.”
 
“Only one can go, at least in my cariole,” remarked Lambert, “for it only holds two, and no one can drive Black Dick but myself.”
 
Baptiste Warder was immoveable; it ended in his going off in the cariole with Lambert to inform the governor of the colony, who was also chief of the Hudson’s Bay Company in Red River, and to rouse the settlement. They had to pass the cottage of Angus Macdonald on the way.
 
“Oh! wow!” cried that excitable old settler when he heard the news. “Can it pe possible? So many tead an’ tying. Oh! wow!—Here, Martha! Martha! where iss that wuman? It iss always out of the way she iss when she’s wantit. Ay, Peegwish, you will do equally well. Go to the staple, man, an’ tell the poy to put the mare in the cariole. Make him pe quick; it’s slow he iss at the best, whatever.”
 
Lambert did not wait to hear the remarks of Angus, but drove off at once. Angus put on his leather coat, fut cap, and mittens, and otherwise prepared himself for a drive over the snow-clad plains to Fort Garry, where the Governor dwelt, intending to hear what was going to be done, and offer his services.
 
With similarly benevolent end in view, old Ravenshaw harnessed his horse and made for the same goal, regardless alike of rheumatism, age, and inclement weather. At a certain point, not far from the creek, the old trader’s private track and that which led to the house of Angus Macdonald united, and thereafter joined the main road, which road, by the way, was itself a mere track beaten in the snow, with barely room for two carioles to pass. Now, it so happened that the neighbours came up to the point of junction at the same moment. Both ............