“Perhaps he took it into his head that we might eat him,” said Hector, looking at poor Muskey, who wagged his tail as he spoke, wondering if he was to have anything for supper.
“Should you mind eating Muskey?” asked Hector.
“I should be very unwilling to kill the poor dog; but if we can find no food to-morrow, it must be done, I fear, to save our lives,” answered Loraine.
Although they lighted a fire, they lay down that night supperless. At daybreak they set off, hoping to reach a lakelet in which Hector thought that he might catch some white fish. They were becoming faint, and no water was to be seen. At length they entered a wood, close to which they found an abundance of choke-berries, as well as gooseberries and currants, which served to appease the gnawings of hunger, although the poor dog looked as if he wished that he could have something more substantial; and about mid-day, they each managed, almost at the same moment, to knock over a small bird.
So great was their hunger that they immediately halted, and, lighting a fire, cooked and ate them.
Darkness coming on, all hope of obtaining food that night was given up. Loraine offered to kill Muskey.
“No, no; let him live to-night, and perhaps to-morrow morning he may assist in catching something,” answered Hector.
They lay down close to the fire, but neither could for some time sleep. Hector was very feverish, and Loraine himself began to feel ill. He saw that his young companion was very unlikely to be able to proceed, and he determined to set off next morning in search of water. At last he closed his eyes, and, to his surprise, when he awoke he found that the sun had arisen. Hector was still sleeping. The fire had gone out, and Muskey lay with his nose on his paws, watching his masters.
“I must manage to get the dog to remain behind and guard him,” he thought; “I will try to find water by myself.”
Hector awoke just as he was about to set off, and tried to get up; but his strength failed, and he sank down again on the ground.