AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY. 171 



when they began to prepare supper they found that a 

 hole had been torn in the gunny-sack in which was 

 carried the meat, and the bacon and remaining veni- 

 son had fallen out on the trail. Search was made for 

 water, and a little was found a quarter of a mile 

 away. Supper of oatmeal mush, biscuit, apple-sauce, 

 and tea was a light diet for hungry men, but it was 

 the best that now remained until they could find some 

 game. Next morning Dyche hunted back three or 

 four miles in hopes of finding the lost meat, but with 

 no success. He killed a " fool hen," but all other ani- 

 mal life appeared to have deserted the forest. Even 

 the few woodpeckers which flitted about the trees 

 seemed so cowed by the stillness that they neither 

 tapped the trees nor cried. 



The silence of these forests was fairly appalling. 

 Not a sound broke the quiet but the moaning of 

 the trees as they rubbed against each other. It 

 rained, and the water came through the dense tops as 

 a fine mist. It snowed, and the flakes sifted down 

 through the spruce boughs like finely ground flour. 

 In this dreary lonesomeness the sound of the human 

 voice appeared strange, and words were rarely spoken 

 above a whisper. 



In the course of the night the snow turned to rain, 

 and next morning an easterly direction was taken. 

 Down a canon and up on a ridge their way led for two 

 hours, when the top of the mountain was reached. 

 From the tops of trees it was discovered that a flat 

 country lay to the northeast, and the trail was turned 

 in this direction. Again and again were trees 

 climbed in hope of seeing something, and at last a 



