only grinned in his good-natured way and remarked: "We needed 'em."
Tying the birds' legs together, he slung them over his shoulder, and
proudly we marched to the place where Hubbard was awaiting us, to make
his heart glad with our good fortune. One of the ducks we ate on the
spot, and the other we had for supper at our camp by a little pond
among the moonlit hills.
The thermometer registered only 10 degrees above zero on Sunday morning
(October 4th), but there was not a cloud in the sky, and we should have
enjoyed the crisp, clear air had it not been for the ever-present
spectre of starvation. All the food we had besides the pea meal was
two of the fish Hubbard had caught two days before. One of these we
ate for breakfast, boiled with a little pea meal. Our old trail led us
up during the forenoon to the shore of one of the larger of the small
lakes with which the country abounded. This lake we crossed with
difficulty, being compelled to break the ice ahead of the canoe with
our paddles.
On the opposite shore we stopped to make a fire for tea--that was all
we thought we should have for luncheon; just tea. George stepped into
the timber to get wood, and in a moment returned and asked me for my
pistol.
"I saw a partridge in there," he said quietly.
Presently Hubbard and I heard the pistol crack, and we counted, at
short intervals, four shots.
"There's something up," said Hubbard, and we started to our feet just
as George came in view with a grin on his face and four spruce-grouse
in his hand. He always did those things in that quiet, matter-of-fact
way.
Two of the birds George cooked immediately, and as he served to each an
equal share, Hubbard said:
"Boys, we should thank the Lord for this food. It has seemed
sometimes, I know, as if He had forgotten us; but He has not. Just now
when we needed food so much He gave us these partridges. Let us thank
Him."
So we bowed our heads for a moment, we three gaunt, ragged men, sitting
there by our fire in the open, with the icy lake at our backs and the
dark wilderness of fir trees before us.
During the afternoon we bagged two more grouse. Hubbard shot them as
they fluttered up before him on the trail, and a meal on the morrow was
assured. The day's work practically completed our forty-mile portage;
for we camped at night on the first little lake north of Lake
Disappointment. It was well that we had about reached fairly
continuous water. None of
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