at ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the
kingdom of God and His righteousness; and all these things shall be
added unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow; for the
morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto
the day is the evil thereof."

"How beautiful, how encouraging that is!" said Hubbard, as I put away
the Book. He crawled into the tent to go to sleep. Then: "I'm so
happy, b'y, so very, very happy to-night...for we're going home...we're
going home." And he slept.

Before I lay down I wrote in my diary:

"Hubbard is in very bad shape--completely worn out physically and
mentally--but withal a great hero, never complaining and always trying
to cheer us up."

George said he was sick when he went to rest, and that added to my
concern.

Friday morning (October 16th) came clear, mild, and beautiful. I was
up at break of day to start the fire, and soon was followed by George
and a little later by Hubbard. We all said we were feeling better.
George shot a foolhardy whiskey jack that ventured too near the camp,
and it went into the pot with a grouse for breakfast. The meal eaten,
we all felt very much stronger, but decided that more outfit must be
abandoned. I gave George my extra undershirt and a blue flannel shirt,
both of which he donned. Every scrap we thought at the time we could
do without, including many photograph films and George's blanket, was
cached.

After Hubbard read aloud John xv, we resumed the struggle. Naturally
George and I relieved Hubbard of everything he would permit us to. The
fact was, we could not have taken much more and moved. When Hubbard
broke down on the trail, it was strictly necessary for me to make two
trips with the packs; although his weighed something less than ten
pounds, I could not have carried it in addition to my own if my life
had depended upon it.

Just below the place where Hubbard caught so many fish that day in
August that we killed the geese, we stopped for a moment to rest.
Hardly had we halted when George grabbed Hubbard's rifle, exclaiming,
"Deer!" About four hundred yards below us, a magnificent caribou, his
head held high, dashed across the stream and into the bush. He was on
our lee and had winded us. No shot was fired. One fleeting glance,
and he was gone. Our feelings can be imagined. His capture would have
secured our safety.

We struggled on. At midday we ate our last grouse. At this st