To proceed on our journey was impossible. We dared not even light a fire near the tent, lest it might be destroyed by the flames driven against it by any sudden change of wind. All that day we sat helpless and disconsolate. Martin, who had held out bravely hitherto, began to give way.
“Oh! I must have some food,” he murmured, “or I shall die.”
He repeated this several times.
Alick at length, seizing his gun, started up. I thought he was going out in spite of the bitter weather to search for game, but I saw him put his hand on Bouncer’s head and lead him forth.
He had got a short distance from the tent when we overtook him.
“It must be done,” he said; “Bouncer must die. I cannot sit by and see that poor boy perish. What should we say to his father and mother, should we again meet them, or to Rose?”
I felt as he did, but, unwilling to see our noble and faithful dog put to death, I turned aside, expecting to hear the report of the gun, when Pat stepped up. “Shure, Misther Alick, you would not be afther killing the poor baste!” he exclaimed. “Let us trust to Providence as heretofore. We have not been deserted through all our throubles and dangers. See now! what’s that there?” he suddenly exclaimed. “After it, Bouncer!” and he and the dog started off over the snow.
I turned on hearing his voice, and saw a small animal followed by a larger, which I knew to be a fox. The cunning animal, catching sight of us just before I fired, gave a sudden turn, and though my bullet knocked off the top of his brush, he was far away, hidden by some low bushes, before even Alick had seen him.
A “Hurrah!” from Pat at the same instant reached my ears, and he came running back with Bouncer, who had caught the smaller animal.
The faithful dog at once surrendered his prize. It was a ground-squirrel which the fox had chased out of its winter nest. We should have been compelled to eat it raw had we not discovered a small open spot among the trees where we could light a fire.