A Try for Ptarmigan 239 



time to think Joe was again in view, and I men- 

 tally vowed that not for my life would I let him 

 out of my sight. Indian-like, he had no idea of 

 halting or looking round to see how I fared. I 

 was to follow if I failed to do so, that was my 

 affair. When an Indian gets scared he's the 

 worst scared thing imaginable ; and Joe was going 

 to the cabin by the shortest route. If I failed to 

 make it, he'd hunt for me after the weather 

 cleared. 



Through the roar and the whine and the fog of 

 it all we pounded ahead. First a faint, uneasy 

 dread took hold of me. Did Joe know whither 

 he was drifting? Had his instinct for once 

 failed ? We seemed to have covered an awfully 

 long route. Then another and worse fear came. 

 I was getting tired. No mistake about that. No 

 one knew better than I what the muscles of each 

 leg were complaining of. No temporary loss of 

 wind this time, but genuine exhaustion. One 

 quarter of a mile more, if we had to go so far, 

 and I'd be done so brown that a bake-oven 

 couldn't tan me more. 



What then ? I'd follow the trail far as I could, 

 then curl up. I had the flask and the infernal 



ptarmigan d n the ptarmigan ! And I'd live 



on them for two days, anyway. But the cold 

 oh ! yes, the cold well, it would freeze me stiffer 

 than the North Pole in twenty minutes, and then 



