l
sleep. But gradually I became hazily conscious of an unusual sound.
Was it a shout? I was aroused. I made a great effort and got on my
feet. I listened. There it was again! It was a shout, I felt sure it
was a shout! With every bit of energy at my command, I sent up an
answering "Hello!" All was silent. I began to fear that again I had
been deceived. Then over the bank above me came four swarthy men on
snow-shoes, with big packs on their backs.

XIX. THE KINDNESS OF THE BREEDS

The unintelligible words that George shouted to me from the knoll after
we parted on Tuesday (October 20th) were an injunction to keep near the
river, as the men he would send to rescue Hubbard and me would look for
us there. As he proceeded down the valley his progress was slow and
tedious, owing to his weakness, the rough country, and the deepening
snow. Towards noon he came upon the newly made track of a porcupine,
followed it a short distance into a clump of trees, where he soon saw
the round quill-covered animal in the snow and shot it. Immediately he
built a fire, and singed off quills and hair. Then, as he related to
me afterwards, he considered, talking aloud to himself, what was best
to do with his prize.

"There's them fellus up there without grub," he said. "Maybe I'd
better turn about and take 'em this porcupine. But if I do, it won't
last long, and then we'll be worse off than ever. This snow's gettin'
deeper all the time, and if it gets so deep I can't walk without
snowshoes, we'll all die for sure. No, I'd better go on with this
porcupine to help me."

So after boiling a piece of the porcupine in his tea kettle and eating
it, he continued down the valley. By his fires be always talked to
himself to keep himself company, and that night he said:

"This 's been a tough day, and I ain't where I ought to be. But I'll
eat a good snack of this porcupine now with some of the flour, and in
the mornin' I'll have another good snack, and that'll make me stronger
and I can travel farther to-morrow. I ought to get most to Grand Lake
to-morrow night."

But so far from getting anywhere near Grand Lake the next day, he did
not complete his twenty-five-mile journey for several days to come.
The snow became so deep he could hardly push through it. He carefully
hoarded the bones of his porcupine, thinking he might have to eat them;
but Providence sent him more food. When the first porcupine was eaten,
he came upon