orest, rising above the road
of wind:

"Ti-l-t and St-o-ve!"

They followed Will's voice, bumping against trees, groping through
flying snow and darkness, and quickly came upon Will and the tilt.
There was indeed, to their great joy, a stove in it. There was also a
supply of dry wood, all cut and piled ready for use. In one end of the
tilt was a bench covered with spruce boughs which Si used as a bed.

There was nothing to feed the exhausted dogs, but they were
unharnessed and were glad enough to curl up in the snow, where the
drift would cover them, after the manner of northern dogs.

Then a fire was lighted in the stove. Will went out with the ax and
kettle, and presently returned with the kettle filled with water
dipped from Bartlett River after he had cut a hole through the ice.

Setting the kettle on the stove, Will, standing by the stove,
proceeded to fill and light his pipe while Doctor Grenfell opened his
dunnage bag to get the tea and sugar. Suddenly Will's pipe clattered
to the floor. Will, standing like a statue, did not stoop to pick it
up and Grenfell rescued it and rising offered it to him, when, to his
vast astonishment, he discovered that the man, standing erect upon
his feet was fast asleep. He had been nearly sixty hours without sleep
and forty-eight hours of this had been spent on the trail.

They aroused Will and had him sit down on the bench. He re-lighted his
pipe but in a moment it fell from his teeth again. He rolled over on
the bench and was too soundly asleep to be interested in pipe or tea
or anything to eat.

Daylight brought no abatement in the storm. The ice was deep under a
coating of slush, and quite impassable for dogs and men, and the sea
was pounding and battering at the outer edge, as the roar of smashing
ice testified, though quite shut out from view by driving snow. There
was nothing to do but follow the shore, a long way around, and off
they started.

Here and there was an opportunity to cut across small coves and inlets
where the ice was safe enough, and at two o'clock in the afternoon
they reached Crow Island, a small island three-quarters of a mile from
the mainland.

Under the shelter of scraggly fir trees on Crow Island an attempt was
made to light a fire and boil the kettle for tea. But there was no
protection from the blizzard. They failed to get the fire, and finally
compelled by the elements to give it up they took a compass course for
a small settlement on the