We cast blank looks at each other, and Bouncer hung down his head, as if he had been the cause of our loss. Alick could not blame Pat, though he regretted that he did not give him a strict charge on no account to leave the camp.
After our long chase we were desperately hungry, but had not a morsel to eat. There was no use repining, however, and we hoped that we might have better fortune the next day.
Supperless we turned into our little tent, to try to overcome our hunger by sleep. An occasional growl from Bouncer showed us that the wolves were still near.
As we had no breakfast to cook, the next morning we started as soon as there was daylight sufficient to enable us to pack up our tent. Not a trace of a deer did we see the next day; had any passed that way, the snow must have obliterated their footmarks.
The second night was approaching, and we had no food. We came to some hills with a grove of trees near a stream at their foot, but the stream was frozen over, and the hills and trees covered thickly with snow.
As we were looking round for a spot on which to pitch our tent, we heard Pat, who was at a little distance, shout out, “Here’s an Injin wigwam; maybe the owner will give us some food.” On reaching it, however, we found that the wigwam contained no inhabitants. There were, however, several articles within, the household goods of a native—a pot, wallet, basket, buffalo-robe, and other things.
At first we thought that the owner had gone out hunting, and would soon return, but on a further examination we were satisfied that it had been deserted for several days, or perhaps weeks. Too probably, the unfortunate man had lost his life, either killed by a bear or a human enemy, or, unable to obtain game, had perished from hunger.
Alick suggested that the occupants might have died of some disease, and that it would be prudent to pitch our tent and sleep in that, rather than in the wigwam.
Having cut some wood, we lighted a fire and chopped up the thongs of Pat’s sledge to make some soup. Though very unpalatable, it would serve to keep us alive; it, at all events, stopped the gnawings of hunger and enabled us to go to sleep.
We were awakened towards the morning by the howling of the wind amid the leafless trees and the falling of the snow from the branches. Looking out of the tent, we could scarcely bear the chilling blast, which drove the particles of snow like pins and needles into our faces much as spoondrift is driven from off the waves of the ocean.