The flour bag we were to look for was on the opposite or south side of the river, and it was necessary to cross. Before noon we reached a place at which George said it would be as easy to ford the stream as at any other. The icy water came almost up to our armpits, but we made the other shore without mishap. There we halted to build a fire and thaw ourselves out; for immediately upon emerging from the river our clothing froze hard and stiff. While waiting we had some hot tea, and as quickly as possible pushed on. We must reach the flour bag that night.
I found it hard to keep the pace George was setting, and began to lag wofully. Several times he had to wait for me to overtake him. We came upon a caribou trail in the snow, and followed it so long as it kept our direction. To some extent the broken path aided our progress. In the afternoon we came upon another grouse track. George followed it to a clump of trees, where the bird was discovered sitting on a limb. This time his aim was accurate, and the bird fell at his feet. Quickly he plucked the wings, cut them off and handed me one with the remark: "They say raw partridge is good when a fellus' weak." It was delicious. I ate the wing, warm with the bird's life blood, bones and all, and George ate the other wing.
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: