as food. Kamiska could be killed; life could be
prolonged a day or two, perhaps three, while the strongest man of the
party, carrying the greater portion of the dog meat on his shoulders,
could push forward and, perhaps, after all, reach Kolyuchin Bay and the
Chuckch settlements and return with aid. But who could go? Assuredly not
Ferriss, so weak he could scarcely keep on his feet; not Adler, who at
times was delirious, and who needed the discipline of a powerful leader
to keep him to his work; Muck Tu, the Esquimau, could not be trusted
with the lives of all of them, and the two remaining men were in all but
a dying condition. Only one man of them all was equal to the task, only
one of them who still retained his strength of body and mind; he
himself, Bennett. Yes, but to abandon his men?

He crawled into the tent again to get the rifle with which to shoot the
dog, but, suddenly possessed of an idea, paused for a moment, seated on
the sleeping-bag, his head in his hands.

Beaten? Was he beaten at last? Had the Enemy conquered? Had the Ice
enclosed him in its vast, remorseless grip? Then once more his
determination grew big within him, for a last time that iron will rose
up in mighty protest of defeat. No, no, no; he was not beaten; he would
live; he, the strongest, the fittest, would survive. Was it not right
that the mightiest should live? Was it not the great law of nature? He
knew himself to be strong enough to move; to march, perhaps, for two
whole days; and now food had come to them, to him. Yes, but to abandon
his men?

He had left McPherson, it is true; but then the lives of all of them had
been involved--one life against eleven. Now he was thinking only of
himself. But Ferriss--no, he could not leave Ferriss. Ferriss would come
with him. They would share the dog meat between them--the whole of it.
He, with Ferriss, would push on. He would reach Kolyuchin Bay and the
settlements. He would be saved; he would reach home; would come
back--come back to Lloyd, who loved him. Yes, but to abandon his men?

Then Bennett's great fist closed, closed and smote heavily upon his
knee.

"No," he said decisively.

He had spoken his thoughts aloud, and Ferriss, who had crawled into his
sleeping-bag again, looked at him curiously. Even Muck Tu turned his
head from the sickening mess reeking upon the cooker. There was a noise
of feet at the flap of the tent.

"It's Adler," muttered Ferriss.

Adler tore open the flap.