whole day--although they travelled from near sunrise to sunset--not a
living thing was seen; and for the second night they went supperless to
bed.

A man will bear hunger for many days--some more, some less--without
actually dying of it; but at no period will his sufferings be greater
than during the third or fourth day. He will grow more feeble
afterwards, but the pain which he endures will not be greater.

On the third day the sufferings of our party were extreme. They began to
chew pieces of their skin-tent and blankets; but although this took the
sharp edge off their appetites, it added nothing to their strength; and
they still craved for food, and grew feebler.

To use a poetical phrase, Marengo now became the "cynosure of every
eye." Marengo was not very fat. The sledge and short rations had thinned
him down, and his ribs could be easily traced. Although the boys, and
Basil in particular, would have suffered much before sacrificing him,
yet starvation will reconcile a man to part with his best friend. In
spite of their friendship for Marengo, his masters could not help
scanning him from time to time with hungry looks. Marengo was an old
dog, and, no doubt, as tough as a piece of tan-leather; but their
appetites were made up for anything.

It was near mid-day. They had started early, as on the day before. They
were trudging wearily along, and making but little progress. Marengo was
struggling with his sledge, feeble as any of the party. Basil saw that
the eyes of his companions were from time to time bent upon the dog; and
though none of them said anything, he understood the thoughts that were
passing within them. He knew that none of them wished to propose it--as
Basil was the real master of Marengo--but their glances were
sufficiently intelligible to him. He looked at the downcast countenance
of the once merry Francois--at the serious air of Norman--at the wan
cheek and sunken eye of Lucien, whom Basil dearly loved. He hesitated no
longer. His duty to his companions at once overcame his affection for
his faithful dog.

"We must kill _him_!" said he, suddenly stopping, and pointing to
Marengo.

The rest halted.

"I fear there's no help for it," said Norman, turning his face in every
direction, and sweeping the surface of the snow with hopeless glances.

Francois also assented to the proposal.

"Let us make a condition," suggested Lucien; "I for one could walk five
miles farther." And as Lucien said this