paddled for some distance into the
lake expansions to the eastward of the point where our river flowed
out. Although we were compelled to start for "home" before obtaining
any definite knowledge of the course of the river, we were of the
opinion that it came from the east. For all we knew, however, the
river might end in those lake expansions; we could not tell, as no
current could be discerned, and having no food we could not continue
the search.

It was five o'clock in the evening when we reached camp, tired out and
as hungry as two wolves, and we astonished Hubbard with the amount of
venison we put out of sight. While George was temporarily out of
hearing, Hubbard said:

"It's bully good to see you back again, Wallace. I was disappointed
when you didn't come back last night, and I've been dead lonesome. I
got thinking of my wife and home, and the good things to eat there, and
was on the verge of homesickness."

"We were mightily disappointed, too, at not getting back," said I
between mouthfuls. "Up there on the lakes we put in the toughest night
yet, and we were thinking of the venison and warm blankets down here at
camp."

Hubbard was much discouraged and depressed at our report of the
uncertain course of the river, although he was careful to conceal his
feelings from George.

The next day (Sunday, August 16) we cut up our canvas guncases and used
some of the material to re-bottom our moccasins. What was left over we
put away carefully for future use. George cracked the caribou bones
and boiled out the marrow grease. He stripped the fat from the
entrails and tried out the tallow, preserving even the cracklings or
scraps. "We'll be glad to eat 'em yet," said he. One of the hoofs he
dressed and put with our store of meat. We preserved everything but
the head, the entrails and three of the hoofs. The tallow we found an
excellent substitute for lard.

In the afternoon Hubbard and I caught thirty trout in an hour at the
rapid a mile and a half above our camp, and a few more in the river
close by the camp. High living during the day raised all of our
spirits. For breakfast we had the caribou heart, which George thought
at first he would roast but changed his mind and served stewed. For
dinner we had the tongue, the tidbit of the animal, boiled with pieces
of other parts. Hubbard's second bullet had torn out the centre of the
tongue, but what there was of it was delicious. And at night we had
the