'y, thank you very much. Isn't that comforting?--'Let not
your heart be troubled.' It makes me feel good. I've faith that we'll
all be saved. I'm not worried. McLean was caught just as we are. He
sent a man for help and got out all right. God will send us help, too."

"Yes," said I, "and we shall soon be safe home."

"We'll soon be safe home" repeated Hubbard--"safe home. How happy that
makes me feel!"

It was time for George and me to go. But I could not say good-bye just
yet. I turned my back to Hubbard and faced the fire. The tears were
welling up into my eyes, and I struggled for self-control. George sat
silent, too, and his face was strangely drawn. For a full ten minutes
we sat silently gazing into the fire. Finally George arose.

"Well, Wallace, we'd better start now."

"Yes," I said; "we'd better start."

I collected myself as best I could, and, turning to Hubbard, held out
my hand.

"Good-bye, b'y; I'll be back soon." And then, as I looked into his
poor, wistful eyes, I broke down and sobbed.

I crawled over to him, and put my arm about him. I kissed his cheek,
and he kissed my cheek. We embraced each other, and for a moment held
our faces close together. Then I drew away.

George was crying, too. The dear fellow went over to Hubbard, stooped
and kissed his cheek.

"With God's help, I'll save you, Hubbard!"

Hubbard kissed his cheek, and they embraced.

George slung his bundle on his shoulder, and I took up mine. We turned
to go. But I had to return. I stooped and again kissed Hubbard's
cheek, and he again kissed mine. He was quite calm--had been calm
throughout. Only his eyes shone with that look of wistful longing.

"Good-bye, boys, and God be with you!"

"Good-bye!"

"Good-bye!"

And George and I left him. About twenty yards away I turned for a last
look at the tent. Hubbard evidently had immediately lain down; for he
was not to be seen. All I saw was the little peak of balloon silk that
had been our home for so many weeks, the fire blazing between it and
the big rock, the kettle of water by the fire, and the white moss and
the dripping wet fir trees all about.

* * * * *

Some one hundred and fifty yards farther on George and I forded a
brook, after which our course was through closely-grown, diminutive fir
trees until we came to a series of low, barren knolls. On these knolls
we found some mossberries. Then we pushed on. It was dr