“We have got to have something to eat,” declared Chet. “I am going to have one square meal, if I have to die tomorrow!”
“Chet!” exclaimed Andy, reprovingly.
“We’ll kill one of the dogs and eat him,” said Barwell Dawson. “It’s the only way out of it.”
[CHAPTER XXIX—FIGHTING OFF STARVATION]
Yet to kill off one of the dogs was a serious undertaking, as they well knew. In that country to travel without a dog sledge was all but impossible, and the remaining animals might fail them at any moment.
“Let us wait until tomorrow,” said Andy. “Something may turn up.”
“I’d rather have something to eat now,” growled Chet.
“I will deal out a little pemmican,” answered Barwell Dawson, and served each person about five ounces.
Then, with increasing slowness, they covered three miles more. Ahead was a little hill, and the explorer thought to climb this and take a look around, to get his bearings.
Hardly had he climbed the hill when he uttered a cry, calling the others to him.