It was just dusk when we reached the knoll George had designated.

Straightway he went to a bush, ran his hand under it and pulled out--the bag we were looking for. We opened it eagerly. As has been said, we left about four pounds of flour in it. Now there was a lump of green and black mould. However, we rejoiced at finding it; for it was something and it might sustain our lives. It might send George to the lard, and keep Hubbard and me until help could arrive.

On this side of the Susan the country for some distance had been burned; but, while there were no standing trees, and the place was entirely unsheltered, fallen spruce trees covered the ground in every direction, so we found no difficulty in getting together a good pile of dry wood for our night's fire, and we soon had a rousing big one going.

For supper we ate all of the grouse boiled with some of the flour mould stirred in. It was a splendid supper.

I had not sat long before the fire when I felt a strange sensation in my eyes. It was as if they had been filled with sharp splinters, and I found it impossible to open them. I was afflicted with smoke-blindness, which is almost identical in its effect to snow-blindness. George filled my pipe with dried tea leaves and just a bit of his precious tobacco; then lit it for me, as I could not see to do it myself. After our smoke we lay down, and I slept heavily; it was practically the first sleep I had had in three days. Some time in the night George awoke me to make me eat a little of a concoction of the mouldy flour and water, cooked thick and a trifle burned after the style of nekapooshet, an Indian dish of which George was very fond. At the first signs of dawn he again roused me, saying:

"It's time to be up, Wallace. We're goin' to have more snow to travel in."

He was right. The clouds were hanging low and heavy, and the first scattering flakes were falling of a storm that was to last for ten days. I was able to open my eyes in the morning, but everything still looked hazy. We boiled some of the wretched mouldy flour for breakfast, and then divided what remained, George taking the larger share, as he had the most work to do. Looking critically at my share, he asked:

"How long can you keep alive on that?"

"It will take me two days to reach Hubbard," I replied, "and the two of us might live three days more on it--on a pinch."

"Do you think you can live as long as that?" said George, looking me hard in the eye.

"I'll try," I said.

"Then in five days I'll have help to you, if there's help to be had at Grand Lake. Day after to-morrow I'll be at Grand Lake. Those fellus'll be strong and can reach camp in two days, so expect 'em."

It was time for us to separate.

"George," I asked, "have you your Testament with you?"

"It's the Book of Common Prayer," he said, drawing it from his pocket; "but it's got the Psalms in it."

He handed me the tiny leather-covered book, but I could not see the print; the haze before my eyes was too thick. I returned the book to him, and asked him to read one of the Psalms. Quite at haphazard, I am sure, he turned to the ninety-first, and this is what he read:

"Whoso dwelleth under the defence of the Most High; shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

"I will say unto the Lord, Thou art my hope, and my stronghold: my G.o.d, in him will I trust.

"For he shall deliver thee from the snare of the hunter: and from the noisome pestilence.

"He shall defend thee under his wings, and thou shalt be safe under his feathers: his faithfulness and truth shall be thy shield and buckler.

"Thou shalt not be afraid for any terror by night: nor for the arrow that flieth by day;

"For the pestilence that walketh in darkness: nor for the sickness that destroyeth in the noon-day.

"A thousand shall fall beside thee, and ten thousand at thy right hand: but it shall not come nigh thee.

"Yea, with thine eyes shalt thou behold: and see the reward of the unG.o.dly.

"For thou, Lord, art my hope: thou hast set thine house of defence very high.

"There shall be no evil happen unto thee: neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.

"For he shall give his angels charge over thee: to keep thee In all thy ways.

"They shall bear thee in their hands: that thou hurt not thy foot against a stone.

"Thou shalt go upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou tread under thy feet.

"Because He hath set His love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him up, because he hath known my name.

"He shall call upon me, and I will hear him: yea, I am with him in trouble; I will deliver him and bring him to bonour.

"With long life will I satisfy him: and show him my salvation"

The Psalm made a deep impression upon me. "For he shall give his angels charge over thee: to keep thee in all thy ways." How strange it seems, in view of what happened to me, that George should have read that sentence.

We arose to go on our separate ways, George twenty-five miles down the valley to Grand Lake, and I fifteen miles up the valley to Hubbard.

The snow was falling thick and fast.

"You'd better make a cape of your blanket," suggested George. "Let me fix it for you."

He placed the blanket around my shoulders, and on either side of the cloth where it came together under my chin made a small hole with his knife. Through these holes he ran a piece of our old trolling line, and tied the ends. Then he similarly arranged his own blanket.

I held out my hand to him.

"Good-bye, George. Take care of yourself."

He clasped my hand warmly.

"Good-bye, Wallace. Expect help in five days."

Near the top of a knoll I stopped and looked back. With my afflicted eyes I could barely make out George ascending another knoll. He also stopped and looked back. I waved my hand to him, and he waved his hand to me and shouted something unintelligible. Then he disappeared in the snow, and as he disappeared a silence came on the world, to remain unbroken for ten days.

XVIII. WANDERING ALONE

With every hour the storm gathered new force, and over the barren knolls, along which my course for some distance lay, the snow whirled furiously. The track George and I had made on our downward journey soon was obliterated. Once in the forenoon, as I pushed blindly on against the storm, I heard a snort, and, looking up, beheld, only a few yards away, a big caribou. He was standing directly in my path. For a second he regarded me, with his head thrown back in fear and wonder; and then, giving another snort, he dashed away into the maze of whirling snow.

My eyes troubled me greatly, and the pain at length grew so intense that I was forced to sit down in the snow for perhaps half an hour with both eyes tightly closed. I was keeping some distance from the river, as the obstructions here were fewer than near the bank. In the afternoon it occurred to me that I might have turned in my course, and I took my compa.s.s from its case, to satisfy myself that I was going in the right direction; but my sight was so impaired that I could not read the dial, nor be certain which way the needle pointed. And I wondered vaguely whether I was becoming totally blind.

My day's progress was not satisfactory. I had hoped to reach the place where George and I had forded the river, and cross to the north sh.o.r.e before bivouacking, but in the deepening snow it was impossible. With the first indications of night, I halted in a thick spruce grove near the river and drew together a fairly good supply of dead wood. On the under side of the branches of the fir trees was generally to be found a thick growth of hairy moss, and with a handful of this as tinder it did not take me long to get a good fire blazing. Close to the fire I threw a pile of spruce boughs that I broke from low branches and the smaller trees. I melted snow in my cup for water, and in this put a few lumps of mould from the flour bag, eating the mixture after it had cooked a while. On the couch of boughs by the fire I spent a fairly comfortable night, waking only at intervals to throw on more wood and shake the snow from my back.

The storm was still raging in the morning (Wednesday, October 21st).

With the first grey streaks of dawn, I boiled another cup of snow water and mould, and then, slinging the flour bag over my shoulder, began my day's struggle. The snow was now knee-deep. Soon I reached the fording place. The river was beginning to freeze over. For two or three yards from sh.o.r.e the ice bore my weight; then I sank up to my waist in the cold current. Approaching the other sh.o.r.e, I broke the outer ice with my arms until it became thick enough to permit me to climb out upon it.

The ice that immediately formed on my clothing make walking impossible, and reluctantly I halted to build a fire and dry myself. This took fully an hour and a half, to my extreme vexation. I realised now that my hope of reaching Hubbard that night was vain. While I dried my clothing, I made a cup of tea. I had just enough left for two brewings, so after drinking the tea I preserved the leaves for further use, wrapping them carefully in a bit of rag. Once more on my way up the valley, I found, to my consternation and almost despair, that my eyes would again compel me to stop, and for nearly an hour I sat with them closed. That night, with the snow still falling, though very lightly, I made my couch of boughs by a fairly comfortable fire, and rested well.

On Thursday morning (October 22d) a light snow was failing, and the weather was very cold. The cup of thin gruel that I made from the green lumps of mould nauseated me, and I had to brew some tea to settle my stomach and stimulate me. With my piece of blanket drawn over my head to protect my ears from the biting wind, and with my hands wrapped in the folds, I continued my struggle towards camp. I had to force my way, blindly and desperately, through thick clumps of fir trees, and as the branches were hanging low under their weight of feathery snow, I continually received a deluge of snow in my face.