184 THE LIFE OF E. J. PECK 



something wrong,&quot; says Mr. Peck. &quot; There is no 

 tent there.&quot; 



When we approach we find to our dismay that 

 the tent has been practically destroyed. There 

 are only a few remains, altogether insufficient, con 

 trive as we will, to make a shelter for the night. 



&quot;Well&quot; continues Mr. Peck &quot;this is not cheerful, 

 but we must make the best of it. We will make a 

 barricade.&quot; 



&quot; And what do you mean by that &quot; we ask shiver 

 ing and inwardly lamenting that we have left our 

 own snug home for such a journey as this. 



&quot; Oh, we will dig a hole in the snow about twenty 

 feet in circumference and then just make a little 

 shelter with some tentcloth on the weather side. 

 And then, for I promised you a fire in your bed 

 room, we will try to find a little wood to light a 

 fire.&quot; 



And so we did. When we had completed our 

 barricade it was dark. We went in search of wood. 

 It was difficult enough to find. But in time we 

 managed to collect enough to make a fire, and then 

 we had the pleasure of drinking a cup of tea. Oh, 

 the pleasure of that cup of tea. It may not have 

 been over strong ; it may have had a little flavour 

 of wood smoke. But it was hot tea. Nothing 

 ever tasted half so well. 



An American writer who tried the experiment 

 of cutting himself off from his luxurious home and 



