When the enthusiastic hunters reached the Fort McMurray settlement just below the camp they left the river and struck inland. Within an hour they had passed through the pines and poplars fringing the river and had reached the summit of a “hog-back” range of hills beyond which there was known to be a little valley running at right angles to the course of the river.
When the four travelers reached the top of the “hog-back” and saw the frozen snow-covered valley before them, like children out for a lark, Philip no less active than the others, they coasted into the valley. Until the sun was high above them they made their way along the frozen creek toward the head of the wide defile. About noon, camp was made, tea was brewed and, partly behind the protection of a little frozen waterfall, bannock and cold meat were added to the hot tea. No time was lost in cooking.
With faces and ears protected by their heavy caps, and with heavy mittens to guard their fingers against frost bite, not one of the party complained of the intense cold.
“It’s all right,” explained Philip, “unless the wind comes up, and if it does we’ll have to go into camp.”
But in the valley no wind arose to make any trouble. The party set forward to reach the head of the valley before time to go into camp. They did this by three o’clock and then, mounting an elevation and passing through a thin fringe of dwarf pines, the boys found themselves on a wind-swept plateau where the snow clung with difficulty.
They had seen plenty of deer, rabbits and small game during the day but had done no shooting. They were after caribou or moose. The first look over the desolate plateau, where not even trees broke the landscape, was far from inviting. As the sun began to go down and little was to be seen other than a few rocky irregularities and a thin covering of snow with drifts here and there like white islands, camp prospects were not as inviting as they had seemed in the valley behind them.
“Come on,” exclaimed Roy, as the party paused on the edge of the heights. “This begins to look like the real thing.”
“Maybe some moose,” was Philip’s rejoinder. “No moose track on de valley below.”
“Hear that?” exclaimed Roy. “Everybody get busy. I reckon we can’t go any farther inland to-night than that heap o’ rock way over there.” He pointed to a barren elevation on the already darkening horizon. “You hunters,” he added, indicating Norman and Philip, “ought to spread out and look for game tracks in the swales to the right and left. But don’t go too far. Work your way in toward those rocks before night. You’ll find us there. Come on, Paul,” he added with unusual enthusiasm, considering that it was rapidly growing colder in the open country, “there’s probably no wood over there. You and I’ll get some here and meet the hunters at the rock pile.”
While Norman and the Indian started out, Roy loosened the axe and drew the sled back into the pine scrub to look for fallen timber. This was a tedious process and it was even more of a task to load the firewood onto the sled.