"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."