d in pieces of a camp blanket, tied to
what remained of the moccasin uppers with pieces of our old trolling
line. George and I were all but spent when we reached our old camping
ground on the outlet to Lake Elson, and what it cost Hubbard to get
across that marsh I can only imagine.

As soon as we arrived Hubbard tried the fish. It did not take him long
to become convinced that there was no hope of inducing any to rise. It
was a severe blow to him, but he rallied his courage and soon
apparently was as full of confidence as ever that we should be able to
reach the flour. While Hubbard was trying the fish, George looked the
old camp over carefully for refuse, and found two goose heads, some
goose bones, and the lard pail we had emptied there.

"I'll heat the pail," he said, "and maybe there'll be a little grease
sticking to it that we can stir in our broth." Then, after looking at
us for a moment, he put his hand into the pail and added: "I've got a
little surprise here. I thought I'd keep it until the bones were
boiled, but I guess you might as well have it now."

From out of the pail he brought three little pieces of bacon--just a
mouthful for each. I cannot remember what we said, but as I write I
can almost feel again the thrill of joy that came to me upon beholding
those little pieces of bacon. They seemed like a bit of food from
home, and they were to us as the rarest dainty.

George reboiled the bones with a piece of the hide and the remainder of
the deer's stomach, and with this and the goose bones and heads we
finished our supper. We were fairly comfortable when we went to rest.
The hunger pangs were passing now. I have said that at this time I was
in an abnormal state of mind. I suppose that was true of us all. The
love of life had ceased to be strong upon us. For myself I know that I
was conscious only of a feeling that I must do all I could to preserve
my life and to help the others. Probably it was the beginning of the
feeling of indifference, or reconciliation with the inevitable, that
mercifully comes at the approach of death.

In the morning (Thursday, October 15th) we again went over our
belongings, and decided to abandon numerous articles we had hitherto
hoped to carry through with us--my rifle and cartridges, some pistol
ammunition, the sextant, the tarpaulin, fifteen rolls of photograph
films, my fishing rod, maps, and note book, and various other odds and
ends, including the cleaning