“Why difficult, grandma? I thought snow-shoes kept you from slipping, and made it much easier to walk in winter.”
“The snow-shoes of which I speak, my dear, are very different from anything you have ever seen; nor could you imagine it possible to travel in them if you had a pair now before you. The racket is a machine consisting of a sort of net-work stretched upon ledges made of very hard wood. They are about two feet and a half long, and fourteen inches broad; and in the middle is fitted a kind of shoe, lined with wool or hair, which is tied on to the ankle. By means of these strange snow-shoes, the feet are prevented from sinking into the soft, deep snow. Even the Indians, shod in this fashion, occasionally meet with heavy falls, especially when descending very steep hills; and a foreigner feels terribly awkward and at a loss when first he attempts to use them. They are exceedingly fatiguing, too, as they become very heavy when wet; and the wearer is compelled to walk with long and rapid strides, in order to prevent the rackets from striking against each other. Sometimes, when the day’s journey was a long one, the faithful terrier which accompanied your grandfather throughout the whole route would howl for very exhaustion; and whenever his master stopped to look about him, or to set his compass, the poor brute would scratch about and make himself a bed for a few minutes’ rest in the soft snow.”
“Poor Doggy!” said George, “I can pity him for I remember once when I walked some miles through the snow, and my shoes got clogged up, I was so tired, what Uncle Tom called ‘dead beat,’ that I could not help crying the last mile before I reached home.”
“Imagine, then, your grandfather starting and making the best of his way over the snow-clad country until the afternoon began to warn him that he must make a halt. At about four o’clock the traveller has to begin his preparation for the night’s lodging, and this he does by clearing away the snow (which is sometimes ten feet deep) from a square space; for which purpose he makes a rude shovel, cut out of the side of some standing tree; and, as snow does not adhere to wood as it does to iron, this is the best thing to be used in removing the snow. When the ground is quite cleared, the wood for the fire is laid in the centre, about a foot of loose snow being left round the space in which it is to be kindled. Upon this, the spruce or fir branches, which easily break off when bent sharply backwards, are laid all one way, with the lower part of the bough upwards. Thus the bed is made. The excavated snow forms a lofty wall round the square; and here the traveller lies, with no covering from the weather, nor any other shelter than the walls of snow on each side of his cavern, and the surrounding trees, may afford.”