ituation.

For some inexplicable reason the caribou, upon which the Indians
depended for food, had disappeared from the land. All living things
save these starving wretches had vanished.

For twenty-four hours not a mouthful of food had passed Shad's own
lips, and a sickening dread engulfed his soul.

[Footnote: This was the winter of 1890-1891, known as "the year of
starvation," when for some unknown reason the caribou failed to appear
in their accustomed haunts, and as a result one out of every three of
the Indians of northern Labrador perished of starvation.]

XIX

THE CACHE ON THE LAKE

Shad Trowbridge stood dazed, as one in a dream--a horrid, awful dream.
He looked through a haze, and what he saw was distorted, unreal,
terrible. The suffering creatures about him were spectral phantoms of
the nether world, the shimmering rime, a symbol of death, the endless
snow the white robe of the grave quickly to cover them all.

A sudden stillness fell upon the camp, to be presently broken by the
agonised scream of a woman, shrill and startling, followed by wailings
and melancholy moans. The Spirit of Death had snatched away her
favourite son.

A sickening nausea overtook Shad, and he sank upon his toboggan, faint
and dizzy with an overpowering weakness. His imagination was getting
the better of him.

It is always dangerous and sometimes fatal for one to permit the
imagination to assert itself in seasons of peril. Will power to put
away thoughts of to-morrow, to think only of to-day, to do to-day the
thing which necessity requires, coupled with a determination never to
abandon hope, is a paramount essential for the successful explorer to
possess.

In this moment of hopeless surrender Shad felt Manikawan's hand rest
lightly upon his shoulder for an instant, and looking up he saw her
standing before him, tall, straight, commanding, and as she looked
that day on the river bank when she bade him and Bob wait for her
return to free them from their island prison.

"The friend of White Brother of the Snow is not a coward. He is not
afraid of the Spirit of Hunger. He is not afraid of the Spirit of
Death. He is brave. He once outwitted the Matchi Manitu of the River.
He will outwit the Spirit of Hunger. He will outwit the Spirit of
Death. The friend of White Brother of the Snow is brave. He is not
afraid to die."

The words were unintelligible to him, but their import was
unmistakable. She, a young Indian maiden, wa