who had walked to the other side of the
rocky jumble, cried back to them to desist. He had espied some willows
at no great distance. Out of these a fire could be made. The sledge,
therefore, was let alone for the present. Basil and Francois immediately
started for the willows, while Norman and Lucien remained upon the spot
to prepare the "tripe" for the pot.

In a short time the former parties returned with two large bundles of
willows, and the fire was kindled. The _tripe de roche_, with some
snow--for there was no water near--was put into the pot, and the latter
hung over the blaze.

After boiling for nearly an hour, the lichen became reduced to a soft
gummy pulp, and Norman thickened the mess to his taste by putting in
more snow, or more of the "tripe," as it seemed to require it. The pot
was then taken from the fire, and all four greedily ate of its contents.
It was far from being palatable, and had a clammy "feel" in the mouth,
something like sago; but none of the party was in any way either dainty
or fastidious just at that time, and they soon consumed all that had
been cooked. It did not satisfy the appetite, though it filled the
stomach, and made their situation less painful to bear.

Norman informed them that it was much better when cooked with a little
meat, so as to make broth. This Norman's companions could easily credit,
but where was the meat to come from? The Indians prefer the _tripe de
roche_ when prepared along with the roe of fish, or when boiled in fish
liquor.

Our weary voyageurs resolved to remain among the rocks for that night at
least; and with this intent they put up their little tent. They did not
kindle any fire, as the willows were scarce, and there would be barely
enough to make one or two more boilings of the rock-tripe. They spread
their skins within the tent, and creeping in, kept one another as warm
as they could until morning.

CHAPTER XXX.

THE POLAR HARE AND GREAT SNOWY OWL.

Of course hunger kept them from sleeping late. They were up and out of
the tent by an early hour. Their fire was re-kindled, and they were
making preparations for a fresh pot of rock-tripe, when they were
startled by the note of a well-known bird. On looking up, they beheld
seated upon the point of a rock the creature itself, which was the
"cinereous crow," or, as it is better known, the "whiskey Jack." The
latter name it receives from the voyageurs, on account of the
resemblance of its Indian