A DESPERATE EFFORT. 213 



eers, Simon being especially gifted in that way, 

 once let them get hold of meat and they gorge 

 with the same greediness and improvidence 

 that dissrnsts one in the African savao-e. 

 Lookmg at Deto, our cook, by the firelight, 

 one knew what the face of a were wolf should 

 be like. 



On Sunday evening our larder was nearly 

 as bare as before Deto's expedition, and it did 

 not want this last inducement to action to 

 make me determine that I would do all I knew 

 in the next few days to change my luck. 



Xearly three weeks had gone by, and 

 although I had killed a couple of bears, I had 

 not yet secured a single head of chamois or 

 ibex. At dusk on Sunday I lay down for a 

 few hours, after which my men roused me in 

 the dark, and all unwilling, with misty eyes 

 and uncertain steps, I had to follow my swift, 

 silent Simon over unseen boulders, which 

 threatened dislocation at every blind stride, 



