Part 31

I soon found it utterly impossible to keep George's pace, and became so exhausted that I was forced to take short rests. At length I told George he had better go ahead and look for the flour; that I should rest, follow his trail and overtake him later. He went on, but just over the bare knoll we were crossing I found him sitting in the snow waiting for me.

"I don't feel right to go ahead and leave you," he said. "Do you see that second knoll?" He pointed to one of a series of round barren knolls about half a mile down the river.

"Yes," I answered.

"Well, don't you remember it? No? Why, that's where we camped when we threw the flour away, and that's where we'll stop to-night. We'd better eat a mouthful to help us on."

He had plucked the head and neck of the grouse, and now proceeded to cut them off near the body. To me he gave the neck, and ate the head himself--raw, of course.

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 God, 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 ungodly.

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