d the straggling trees, dwarfed and bent by the wind, ran east
and west in a deeply indented line. In some places they boldly
stretched out towards the Pole in long promontories; in others they
fell back in wide bays which Blake, steering by compass, held straight
across and afterwards again plunged into the scrub. Three days were
spent in struggling through the broadest tongue, but as a rule, a few
hours' arduous march brought them out into the open. Even there the
ground was very rough and broken, and they were thankful for the
numerous frozen creeks and lakes which provided an easier road.

Pushing on stubbornly, camping where they could find shelter and wood,
since they could hardly have survived a night spent without a fire in
the open, they had made, by calculation, two hundred miles, and Blake
believed they might by a determined effort reach the Hudson's Bay post
about nightfall. This was necessary since their strength was nearly
exhausted, and provisions had run out, but an Indian trapper whom they
had met two days before had given them directions and landmarks, some
of which they recognized.

Day had broken, but there was little light and Blake, looking out from
behind a slab of rock in the shelter of which a few junipers clung,
thought that three or four miles would be the longest distance that he
could see. This was peculiarly unfortunate, because he understood that
their course led across a wide untimbered stretch, on the opposite side
of which one or two isolated bluffs would indicate the neighbourhood of
the factory. Disastrous consequences might follow the missing of these
woods.

A pannikin of weak tea made from leaves which had already been once or
twice infused stood among the embers, and by and by Benson, who was
dividing the last of the meat, held up a piece.

"I had thought of saving this, but it hardly seems worth while," he
said. "If we make the factory, we'll get a good supper."

"You don't mention what will happen if we miss it," Harding remarked
with grim humour. "Anyhow, that piece of meat won't make much
difference. What do you think, Blake?"

Blake forced a cheerful laugh. "Put it all in; we're going to make the
post; as a matter of fact, we have to. How's the leg this morning?"

"I don't think it's worse than it was last night," Harding answered.
"If I'm careful how I go, it ought to stand another journey."

He made a grimace as he stretched out the limb, which was very s