On the way they had terrible demonstration of the extent of suffering that prevailed among their friends.
They had not walked twenty miles when they came on tracks which led them to a group—a father, mother, and two sons—who were sitting on the snow frozen to death. In solemn silence the hunters stood for a few minutes and looked at the sad sight, then turned and passed on. The case was too urgent to permit of delay. Many lives hung on their speedy conveyance of news to the settlement. They bent forward, and with long swinging strides sped over the dreary plains until darkness—not exhaustion—compelled them to halt. They carried with them a small amount of pemmican, about half rations, trusting to meet with something to shoot on the way. Before daylight the moon rose. They rose with it and pushed on. Suddenly they were arrested by an appalling yell. Next moment a man rushed from a clump of trees brandishing a gun. He stopped when within fifty yards, uttered another demoniacal yell, and took aim at Warder.
Quick as thought the ex-captain brought his own piece to his shoulder. He would have been too late if the gun of his opponent had not missed fire.
“Stop! ’tis Pierre Vincent!” cried Winklemann, just in time to arrest Warder’s hand.
Vincent was a well-known comrade, but his face was so disfigured by dirt and blood that they barely recognised him. He flung away his gun when it snapped, and ran wildly towards them.
“Come! come! I have food, food! ha! ha! much food yonder in the bush! My wife and child eat it! they are eating eating now! ha! ha!”
With another fierce yell the poor maniac—for such he had become—turned off at a tangent, and ran far away over the plains.
They made no attempt to follow him; it would have been useless. In the bush they found his wife and child stone-dead. Frequently during that terrible walk they came on single tracks, which invariably showed that the traveller had fallen several times, and at length taken to creeping. Then they looked ahead, for they knew that the corpse of a man or woman was not far in advance of them.
One such track led them to a woman with an infant on her back. She was still pretty strong, and trudged bravely over the snow on her snow-shoes, while the little one on her back appeared to be quite content with its lot, although pinched-looking in the face.
The men could not afford to help her on. It would have delayed themselves. The words “life and death” seemed to be ringing constantly in their ears. But they spoke kindly to the poor woman, and gave her nearly all their remaining stock of provisions, reserving just enough for two days.