At 10 the hunters came back empty-handed. Yes, they found a fresh Moose track, but the creature was so pestered by clouds of ———— that he travelled continually as fast as he could against the wind. They followed all day but could not overtake him. They saw a Beaver but failed to get it. No other game was found.

Things were getting serious now, since all our food consisted of 1 Crane, 1 tin of brawn, 1 pound of bread, 2 pounds of pork, with some tea, coffee, and sugar, not more than one square meal for the crowd, and we were 5 men far from supplies, unless our hunting proved successful, and going farther every day.

Next morning (July 9) each man had coffee, one lady's finger of bread, and a single small slice of bacon. Hitherto from choice I had not eaten bacon in this country, although it was a regular staple served at each meal. But now, with proper human perversity, I developed an extraordinary appetite for bacon. It seemed quite the most delicious gift of God to man. Given bacon, and I was ready to forgo all other foods. Nevertheless, we had divided the last of it. I cut my slice in two, revelled in half, then secretly wrapped the other piece in paper and hid it in the watch-pocket of my vest, thinking "the time is in sight when the whole crowd will be thankful to have that scrap of bacon among them." (As a matter of fact, they never got it, for five days later we found a starving dog and he was so utterly miserable that he conjured that scrap from the pocket next my heart.)

We were face to face with something like starvation now; the game seemed to shun us and our store of victuals was done. Yet no one talked of giving up or going back. We set out to reach the Buffalo country, and reach it we would.

That morning we got 7 little Teal, so our lunch was sure, but straight Teal without accompaniments is not very satisfying; we all went very hungry. And with one mind we all thought and talked about the good dinners or specially fine food we once had had. Selig's dream of bliss was a porterhouse steak with a glass of foaming beer; Jarvis thought champagne and roast turkey spelt heaven just then; I thought of my home breakfasts and the Beaux-Arts at New York; but Billy said he would he perfectly happy if he could have one whole bannock all to himself. Preble said nothing.

CHAPTER XIX

WHITE MAN AND RED. MEAT, BUT NOTHING MORE

There was plenty of hollow hilarity but no word of turning back. But hold! yes, there was. There was one visage that darkened more each day, and finally the gloomy thoughts broke forth in words from the lips of—our Indian guide. His recent sullen silence was now changed to open and rebellious upbraiding.

He didn't come here to starve. He could do that at home. He was induced to come by a promise of plenty of flour. "All of which was perfectly true. But," he went on, "We were still 11 days from the Buffalo and we were near the head of navigation; it was a case of tramp through the swamp with our beds and guns, living on the country as we went, and if we didn't have luck the Coyotes and Ravens would."

Before we had time to discuss this prospect, a deciding step was announced, by Jarvis, He was under positive orders to catch the steamer Wrigley at Fort Resolution on the evening of July 10. It was now mid-day of July 9, and only by leaving at once and travelling all night could he cover the intervening 60 miles.