us would have been able to stand much longer
the strain of those rough portages day after day. Fortunate as we had
been in getting game at critical moments since leaving Windbound Lake,
the quantity of food we had eaten was far below that which was
necessary to sustain the strength of men who had to do hard physical
work.

It had become so that when we tried to sit down our legs would give way
and we would tumble down. Hubbard was failing daily. He habitually
staggered when he walked, and on this last day of our long portage he
came near going all to pieces nervously. When he started to tell me
something about his wife's sister, he could not recall her name,
although it had been perfectly familiar, and this and other lapses of
memory appeared to frighten him. For a long time he sat very still
with his face buried in his hands, doubtless striving to rally his
forces. And the most pitiable part of it was his fear that George and
I should notice his weakness and lose courage.

But he rallied--rallied so as again to become the inspirer of George
and me, he who was the weakest physically of the three.

XIV. BACK THROUGH THE RANGES

In our camp on the first little lake north of Lake Disappointment we
ate on Monday morning (October 5th) the last of the grouse we had
killed on the previous day, and when we started forward we again were
down to the precious little stock of pea meal. In a storm of snow and
rain we floundered with the packs and canoe through a deep marsh, until
once more we stood on the shore of the big lake where we had spent the
weary days searching for a river--Lake Disappointment. We built a fire
on the shore to dry our rags and warm ourselves; for we were soaked
through and shivering with the cold. Then we launched the canoe and
paddled eastward.

Late in the afternoon we landed on an island that contained a
semi-barren knoll, but which otherwise was wooded with small spruce.
On the knoll we found an abundance of mossberries, and soon after we
had devoured them we happened upon a supper in the form of two
spruce-grouse. George and Hubbard each shot one. The sun's journey
across the sky was becoming noticeably shorter and shorter, and before
we had realised that the day was spent, night began to close in upon
us, and we pitched camp on the island.

In the morning (October 6) our breakfast flew right into camp. George
crawled out early to build a fire, and a moment later stuck his head