Success and Failure 



the grim monotony of the arctics. No rock or bush 

 or tree made a welcome mark upon the hoary plain. 

 Wonderland of frost, white marble desert, infinitude 

 of gleaming silences ! 



Snow began to fall, making the dogs flounder, 

 obliterating the sun by which they traveled. They 

 camped to wait for clearing weather. Biscuits 

 soaked in tea made their meal. At dawn Jones 

 crawled out of the tepee. The snow had ceased. 

 But where were the dogs? He yelled in alarm. 

 Then little mounds of white, scattered here and 

 there, became animated, heaved, rocked and rose to 

 fall to pieces, exposing the dogs. Blankets of snow 

 had been their covering. 



Rea had ceased his &quot; Jackoway out of wood,&quot; 

 for a reiterated question: &quot; Where are the wolves? &quot; 



&quot; Lost,&quot; replied Jones in hollow humor. 



Near the close of that day, in which they had 

 resumed travel, from the crest of a ridge they 

 descried a long, low, undulating dark line. It proved 

 to be the forest of u little sticks,&quot; where, with grate 

 ful assurance of fire and of soon finding their old 

 trail, they made camp. 



&quot; We ve four biscuits left, an enough tea for one 

 drink each,&quot; said Rea. &quot; I calculate we re two hun 

 dred miles from Great Slave Lake. Where are the 

 wolves? &quot; 



177 



