“And will the food last out?”
That was the crucial question. Until the river traffic began the purchase of food was almost an impossibility. She saw Jim’s face tighten, as it had tightened every time she had broached the subject. A week before he had insisted that the remaining food be equally divided, since they now both engaged in the search for gold—that eternally elusive mineral that seemed as far away as ever. The beans and flour and canned meat had been duly apportioned, and placed in their respective sacks. When they separated for the day each took his food with him, cooking it in primitive fashion in the open.
For the last few days Angela had been anxious about Jim. He seemed to have changed in an extraordinary manner. His cheeks were thinner and his eyes looked dead. Yet he was merry 260 enough when at nights they forgathered around the fire and told their respective tales of vain searching.
She was frying some beans over the fire when he rose and pointed back through the wood.
“I guess I’ll jest go along and prospect the lay of the land from the hill,” he said.
“But aren’t you going to have something to eat?”
“Nope—not now. I ain’t hungry. I’ll be back again in no time.”
She ate her meal reflectively. It was queer that he should want to go to the hill, when but recently they had passed over it and had taken their bearings from the ice-laden river that lay to the east! Despite his assurance of excellent health she knew something was wrong with him. But what?
A little later she followed the path he had taken. The thickly grown wood was alive with spirit of spring. Small animals scampered underfoot, and overhead a bird breathed forth its soul in incomparable song. She stopped for a minute to listen to the latter—clear-throated as an English nightingale—singing away as 261 though winter and the stark desolation had never been. A slight breeze moaned among the tree-tops, and woodland scents were wafted to her nostrils. Adown the gale came the slanting rays of the setting sun, red and wonderful and warm.
From near at hand came another sound—a noise as of one slashing at the earth. Carefully she made her way in the direction of the noise, curious as to its meaning. She peered round a tree, and saw something which took her breath away. Jim was kneeling on the ground, hacking with his jack-knife at the earth. Then from the excavated foot or so he took a root, scraped it with the knife, and began to gnaw it like a dog. She had heard of edible roots, on which half-starved Indians in the North managed to subsist for long periods. But for Jim to do this.... Her brain reeled at the sight. The significance of it dawned upon her. He was afraid of the future. He knew the food could not last out, and was saving his rations for the time of emergency. That was the meaning of those thinning cheeks and the dead eyes. He was famished with hunger...!