he top of the tent, and one of them actually settled upon the edge
of the pot, as it hung over the fire, and quietly looking into it,
appeared to scrutinize its contents!

The boys could not think of any way of getting the birds, except by
Francois' gun; and it was at length agreed that Francois should do his
best. He was sure of one of them, at least; so telling the others to get
behind him, he fired at the more distant one where it sat upon the tent,
and took the other on the wing.

Both shots were successful. The two jays fell, and were soon divested of
their soft, silky, hair-like plumage, and dropped into the boiling pot.
They did not weigh together more than about six or seven ounces; but
even that was accounted something under present circumstances; and, with
the _tripe de roche_, a much better breakfast was made than they had
anticipated.

No more of the lichen could be found. The rocks were all searched, but
only a few patches--not enough for another full meal--could be obtained.
The travellers had no other resource, therefore, but to continue on, and
passing through the rocky ground, they once more embarked upon the
wilderness of snow.

During that whole day not a living creature gladdened their eyes. They
saw nothing that was eatable--fish, flesh, fowl, or vegetable. Not even
a bit of rock-tripe--in these parts the last resource of starving
men--could be met with. They encamped in a plain, where not a tree
stood--not even a rock to shelter them.

Next morning a consultation was held. Marengo was again the subject of
their thoughts and conversation. Should they kill him on the spot or go
a little farther? That was the question. Lucien, as before, interposed
in his favour. There was a high hill many miles off, and in their proper
course. "Let us first reach yonder hill," proposed Lucien. "If nothing
is found before that, then we must part with Marengo."

The proposal was agreed to, and, striking their tent, they again set
out.

It was a toilsome long way to that hill--feeble and weary as they all
were--but they reached it without having observed the slightest trace of
animal life.

"Up the hill!" cried Lucien, beckoning to the others, and cheering them
with his weak voice, "Up the hill!"

On they went, up the steep declivity--Marengo toiling on after them. The
dog looked downcast and despairing. He really appeared to know the
conditions that had been made for his life. His masters, as they crept
upw