OH, SHOOT! 



he could not wear his boots. We went with- 

 out the dogs. 



At nine that night I staggered wearily out 

 from the timber on to the beach. A mile of 

 mud lay between the bank and the water, 

 and two miles beyond that I sighted the 

 launch. Fred and Little heard my shots, and 

 by the time I had reached the low-water line 

 they were under way. Out another half mile 

 into the creeping tide I waded, until it was up 

 to the tops of my boots. I was utterly ex- 

 hausted, my feet were bruised and pounded to 

 a jelly, every muscle in me ached. For four- 

 teen hours Joe and I had shoved ourselves 

 through the snow, in places waist-deep, 

 crossing canons, creeping up endless slopes 

 until we had traversed the island and the open 

 sea lay before us. Snow, snow, snow every- 

 where, until our eyes had ached and our vision 

 had grown distorted. 



We had found the tracks of those seven 

 bears, but they were miles away and headed 

 toward the west, whither we could not follow. 

 We had become separated later and I had 

 come home alone, ten miles as the crow flies, 

 across the most desolate region I ever saw. 



I had followed a herd of five bears for 

 62 



