ckens, too. Their chickens and yams and cornbread are great. It
makes my mouth water to think of even the meals I've eaten in the
mountaineers' cabins--wild hog, good and greasy; wild honey, hoecake,
and strong black coffee. When I get home I'm going to experiment in
camp with cooking corn meal, and I've got an idea that a young sucking
pig roasted before the fire like George roasted the goose would be
great."

There we were, plunged once more into a discussion about food, and it
was after midnight when the talk about roasting pigs, and stuffing
pigs, and baking this, and baking that, came to an end. Even then
Hubbard was loath to seek the tent, it was so "cold and shivery"; but
he expressed himself as being fairly comfortable when he had followed
my example and toasted himself thoroughly before the fire immediately
before turning in with a pair of socks on his feet that had been hung
up to warm.

On Friday (September 18th) a fierce northwest gale again kept us on the
lee shore, and all we got on the troll was a three-quarter-pound
namaycush. Hubbard and I also fished conscientiously at the rapid near
which we were still camping, and our combined efforts yielded us only
two eight-inch trout and a twenty-inch trout. Trying as we were to get
fish ahead for our long portage, it was most depressing.

Despite the steady gnaw, gnaw at the pit of our stomachs, we had cut
down our meals to the minimum amount of food that would keep us alive;
we were so weak we no longer were sure where our feet were going to
when we put them down. But all the fish we had to smoke was two or
three. And on Friday night we ate the last bit of our flour; it was
used to thicken the water in which we boiled for supper some entrails,
a namaycush head and the two little trout we had caught during the day.

All that night the northwest gale was accompanied by gusts of rain and
snow. On Saturday (September 19th) the mercury dropped to 32 degrees,
and the air was raw. Not a single fish were we able to catch. George
and I smoked a pipe for breakfast, while Hubbard imbibed the
atmosphere. A bit of the smoked fish we had hoped to keep, boiled with
a dash of pea meal in the water, did us for luncheon and supper.

Heretofore we had slept each rolled in his own blanket, but it was so
cold in the tent that night we had to make a common bed by spreading
one blanket beneath us on a tarpaulin and lying spoon-fashion with the
other two blankets drawn