snow had changed the whole face of the country
and obliterated all the landmarks. Soon I crossed a brook, frozen and
covered with snow, that I felt must be the one near our camp. Eagerly
I looked about me for the tent. Because of the falling snow and the
snow-bent branches, I could scarcely see twenty yards in any direction.
From snow-covered rock to snow-covered rock I went, believing each in
turn to be the tent, but always to meet disappointment. Repeatedly I
stopped to peer into the maze of snow for smoke. But there was none.
Again and again I shouted. But there was no answer. The tent was
really near me, but it kept its secret well.

I travelled on and on. I became desperate. Over and over I repeated
to myself, "I must find Hubbard before night comes--I must find him--I
must--I must." At length the first signs of night warned me that I
must collect my wood, that I might be as comfortable as possible
through the dreary hours of darkness. As night came on the storm
moderated. The wind ceased. An unwonted, solemn, awful stillness came
upon the world. It seemed to choke me. I was filled with an
unutterable, a sickening dread. Hubbard's face as I had last seen it
was constantly before me. Was he looking and waiting for me? Why could
I not find him? I must find him in the morning. I must, I must.
Before going to sleep I made some more gruel and tea, drinking them
both as a duty.

The snow was falling gently on Saturday (October 24th), the wind had
mercifully abated, and the temperature was somewhat milder. After more
gruel and the last cup of tea I was to have in my lonely wanderings, I
renewed my search for Hubbard. I decided that possibly I was below the
camp, and pushed on to the westward. Finally I became convinced I was
in a part of the country I had never seen before. I began to feel that
possibly I was far above the camp; that a rescuing party had found
Hubbard, and that, as my tracks in the snow had been covered, they had
abandoned the hope of finding me and had returned. They might even
have passed me in the valley below; it was quite possible. But perhaps
George's strength had failed him, and help never would come to any of
us.

I turned about, and again started down the valley. After a time I
attempted to cross the ice on the river, to try and discover some
familiar landmark on the south shore. In midstream, where the current
had not permitted thick ice to form, I broke through. The