Several days passed by.  We were not molested by the Indians, but the horses did not arrive.  Uncle Donald never fretted or fumed, though it was enough to try his temper.  I asked him to allow me to set off with Corney and Pierre to ascertain if they had gone by mistake to any other place.  We were on the point of starting when we saw a party of horses and men approaching.  They proved to be those we were expecting, but there were only eight horses, less than half the number we had sent off. The men in charge had a sad account to give.  The rest had been stolen by Indians, and one of their party had been killed, while they had to make a long round to escape from the thieves, who would otherwise very likely have carried off the remainder.  The men also had brought a dozen dogs--our three especial favourites being among them--to be used in dragging our sleighs in case the horses should be unable to get through. We had carried the materials for forming sleighs with us in the canoes, while the harness had been transported thus far with the other packages by the horses.  The poor beasts, though very thin, were better than no horses at all.  There were a sufficient number to convey our stores and provisions, one for Uncle Donald, who carried Rose on his saddle, and two others for Hugh and me.  The rest of the party had to proceed on foot.  I offered mine to Madge, but she declared that she could walk better than I could.