Suddenly Rand gave vent to a sharp, quick cry of excitement. In spite of the fact that his feet hurt him almost beyond endurance, he went forward at a run, racing over the thick dry grass. The trees had been cut down for a purpose, as he had surmised. He could see the cabin now, faintly showing through the screen of underbrush on the opposite side of the clearing.
But his heart fell as he came closer to the cabin. A sickening wave of disgust and disappointment swept over him. He could see plainly that no one lived there. The door, partially open, hung loosely on broken hinges, while across the threshold, the grass had woven a tangled mat which encroached a full twelve inches into the dark interior.
Years had passed probably since a human foot had stepped within that cabin. In its present untenanted, dilapidated state it had very little to offer to a man whose stomach gnawed with the irrepressible pangs of hunger. In a fit of sudden despair, he stood and regarded it darkly.
Nevertheless, he strode through the doorway, for no apparent reason that he could imagine, unless it was to satisfy a somewhat morbid curiosity as to what he would find within. In the dim light of the single room, he moved cautiously forward, peering about him with half-frightened eyes. His feet stirred up a choking dust. There was a smell about the place he did not like. It rose to his nostrils—a faintly sickening odor of decayed plants.
A crudely constructed cupboard at one side of the room attracted his attention. He walked over and examined it. The lower shelf contained nothing of interest: a few black, dirty pots, covered with rust. On the second shelf there was a miscellaneous assortment of knives and forks, a small hammer with one of the claws broken, two enamelled plates, chipped badly, but otherwise in fair condition.
The policeman found it necessary to rise on tiptoes in order to reach the third shelf at all; but after a good deal of fumbling and groping about, his hand came in contact with a round object, which he lifted down for better inspection.
The weight of the thing, about six or seven pounds, indicated that it was not entirely empty. It was round and cylindrical in shape and was fitted on the top with an air-tight cover. Rand’s face became damp with moisture as he turned the vessel slowly around in his hands. He shook it several times, listening to the dull thud inside. Then, with a quick in-taking of breath, he placed it hurriedly on the floor and attempted to pry off the lid.
Several minutes later—for the cover was rusted down—he straightened up, gibbering inanely. His eyes were bright with the joy of his discovery. He laughed loudly, gleefully—a hint of madness in his laugh. He stooped forward again, ramming one hand into the cool, white substance. For one delicious moment he pawed around in it.
“Flour! Flour!” he gloated. “This is lucky!”
And so he ate the bannock with thankfulness in his heart. He had used very little of the flour. With careful rationing, it would still last him a long time—perhaps even to Keechewan Mission.