again, and with a final look
at Hubbard's last camp, turned back to the valley of the Beaver and new
adventures.

DILLON WALLACE.

Beacon-on-the-Hudson, November eighteenth, 1913.

CONTENTS

I. The Object of the Expedition
II. Off at Last
III. On the Edge of the Wilderness
IV. The Plunge into the Wild
V. Still in the Awful Valley
VI. Searching for a Trail
VII. On a Real River at Last
VIII. "Michikamau or Bust!"
IX. And There was Michikamau!
X. Prisoners of the Wind
XI. We Give It Up
XII. The Beginning of the Retreat
XIII. Hubbard's Grit
XIV. Back Through the Ranges
XV. George's Dream
XVI. At the Last Camp
XVII. The Parting
XVIII. Wandering Alone
XIX. The Kindness of the Breeds
XX. How Hubbard Went to Sleep
XXI. From Out the Wild
XXII. A Strange Funeral Procession
XXIII. Over the Ice
XXIV. Hubbard's Message

Acknowledgment is due Mr. Frank Barkley Copley, a personal and
literary friend of Mr. Hubbard, for assistance rendered in the
preparation of this volume.

D. W.

New York, January, 1905.

THE LURE OF THE LABRADOR WILD

I. THE OBJECT OF THE EXPEDITION

"How would you like to go to Labrador, Wallace?" It was a snowy night
in late November, 1901, that my friend, Leonidas Hubbard, Jr., asked me
this question. All day he and I had been tramping through the snow
among the Shawangunk Mountains in southern New York, and when the
shades of evening fell we had built a lean-to of boughs to shelter us
from the storm. Now that we had eaten our supper of bread and bacon,
washed down with tea, we lay before our roaring campfire, luxuriating
in its glow and warmth.

Hubbard's question was put to me so abruptly that it rather startled me.

"Labrador!" I exclaimed. "Now where in the world is Labrador?"

Of course I knew it was somewhere in the north-eastern part of the
continent; but so many years had passed since I laid away my old school
geography that its exact situation had escaped my memory, and the only
other knowledge I had retained of the country was a confused sense of
its being a sort of Arctic wilderness. Hubbard proceeded to enlighten
me, by tracing with his pencil, on the fly-leaf of his notebook, an
outline map of the peninsula.

"Very interesting," I commented. "But why do you wish to go there?"

"Man," he replied, "do