128 THE ARCTIC PRAIRIES 



At 10 the hunters came back empty-handed. Yes, 

 they found a fresh Moose track, but the creature was 

 so pestered by clouds of that he travelled con- 

 tinually as fast as he could against the wind. They 

 followed all day but could not overtake him. They 

 saw a Beaver but failed to get it. No other game was 

 found. 



Things were getting serious now, since all our food 

 consisted of 1 Crane, 1 tin of brawn, 1 pound of bread, 

 2 pounds of pork, with some tea, coffee, and sugar, 

 not more than one square meal for the crowd, and we 

 were 5 men far from supplies, unless our hunting proved 

 successful, and going farther every day. 



Next morning (July 9) each man had coffee, one 

 lady's finger of bread, and a single small slice of bacon. 

 Hitherto from choice I had not eaten bacon in this 

 country, although it was a regular staple served at 

 each meal. But now, with proper human perversity, 

 I developed an extraordinary appetite for bacon. It 

 seemed quite the most delicious gift of God to man. 

 Given bacon, and I was ready to forgo all other foods. 

 Nevertheless, we had divided the last of it. I cut my 

 slice in two, revelled in half, then secretly wrapped the 

 other piece in paper and hid it in the watch-pocket of 

 my vest, thinking "the time is in sight when the whole 

 crowd will be thankful to have that scrap of bacon 

 among them." (As a matter of fact, they never got 

 it, for five days later we found a starving dog and he 

 was so utterly miserable that he conjured that scrap 

 from the pocket next my heart.) 



We were face to face with something like starvation 



