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contact with the earth； but ever more fell； covering the ground；
putting out the fire； spoiling his supply of moss…fuel。
This was a signal for him to strap on his pack and stumble onward；
he knew not where。 He was not concerned with the land of little
sticks； nor with Bill and the cache under the upturned canoe by the
river Dease。 He was mastered by the verb 〃to eat。〃 He was hunger…
mad。 He took no heed of the course he pursued； so long as that
course led him through the swale bottoms。 He felt his way through
the wet snow to the watery muskeg berries； and went by feel as he
pulled up the rush…grass by the roots。 But it was tasteless stuff
and did not satisfy。 He found a weed that tasted sour and he ate
all he could find of it； which was not much； for it was a creeping
growth； easily hidden under the several inches of snow。
He had no fire that night； nor hot water； and crawled under his
blanket to sleep the broken hunger…sleep。 The snow turned into a
cold rain。 He awakened many times to feel it falling on his
upturned face。 Day came … a gray day and no sun。 It had ceased
raining。 The keenness of his hunger had departed。 Sensibility； as
far as concerned the yearning for food； had been exhausted。 There
was a dull； heavy ache in his stomach； but it did not bother him so
much。 He was more rational； and once more he was chiefly
interested in the land of little sticks and the cache by the river
Dease。
He ripped the remnant of one of his blankets into strips and bound
his bleeding feet。 Also； he recinched the injured ankle and
prepared himself for a day of travel。 When he came to his pack； he
paused long over the squat moose…hide sack； but in the end it went
with him。
The snow had melted under the rain； and only the hilltops showed
white。 The sun came out； and he succeeded in locating the points
of the compass； though he knew now that he was lost。 Perhaps； in
his previous days' wanderings； he had edged away too far to the
left。 He now bore off to the right to counteract the possible
deviation from his true course。
Though the hunger pangs were no longer so exquisite； he realized
that he was weak。 He was compelled to pause for frequent rests；
when he attacked the muskeg berries and rush…grass patches。 His
tongue felt dry and large； as though covered with a fine hairy
growth； and it tasted bitter in his mouth。 His heart gave him a
great deal of trouble。 When he had travelled a few minutes it
would begin a remorseless thump； thump； thump； and then leap up and
away in a painful flutter of beats that choked him and made him go
faint and dizzy。
In the middle of the day he found two minnows in a large pool。 It
was impossible to bale it； but he was calmer now and managed to
catch them in his tin bucket。 They were no longer than his little
finger； but he was not particularly hungry。 The dull ache in his
stomach had been growing duller and fainter。 It seemed almost that
his stomach was dozing。 He ate the fish raw； masticating with
painstaking care； for the eating was an act of pure reason。 While
he had no desire to eat； he knew that he must eat to live。
In the evening he caught three more minnows； eating two and saving
the third for breakfast。 The sun had dried stray shreds of moss；
and he was able to warm himself with hot water。 He had not covered
more than ten miles that day； and the next day； travelling whenever
his heart permitted him； he covered no more than five miles。 But
his stomach did not give him the slightest uneasiness。 It had gone
to sleep。 He was in a strange country； too； and the caribou were
growing more plentiful； also the wolves。 Often their yelps drifted
across the desolation； and once he saw three of them slinking away
before his path。
Another night； and in the morning； being more rational； he untied
the leather string that fastened the squat moose…hide sack。 From
its open mouth poured a yellow stream of coarse gold…dust and
nuggets。 He roughly divided the gold in halves； caching one half
on a prominent ledge； wrapped in a piece of blanket； and returning
the other half to the sack。 He also began to use strips of the one
remaining blanket for his feet。 He still clung to his gun； for
there were cartridges in that cache by the river Dease。
This was a day of fog； and this day hunger awoke in him again。 He
was very weak and was afflicted with a giddiness which at times
blinded him。 It was no uncommon thing now for him to stumble and
fall； and stumbling once； he fell squarely into a ptarmigan nest。
There were four newly hatched chicks； a day old … little specks of
pulsating life no more than a mouthful； and he ate them ravenously；
thrusting them alive into his mouth and crunching them like egg…
shells between his teeth。 The mother ptarmigan beat about him with
great outcry。 He used his gun as a club with which to knock her
over； but she dodged out of reach。 He threw stones at her and with
one chance shot broke a wing。 Then she fluttered away； running；
trailing the broken wing； with him in pursuit。
The little chicks had no more than whetted his appetite。 He hopped
and bobbed clumsily along on his injured ankle； throwing stones and
screaming hoarsely at times； at other times hopping and bobbing
silently along； picking himself up grimly and patiently when he
fell； or rubbing his eyes with his hand when the giddiness
threatened to overpower him。
The chase led him across swampy ground in the bottom of the valley；
and he came upon footprints in the soggy moss。 They were not his
own … he could see that。 They must be Bill's。 But he could not
stop； for the mother ptarmigan was running on。 He would catch her
first； then he would return and investigate。
He exhausted the mother ptarmigan； but he exhausted himself。 She
lay panting on her side。 He lay panting on his side； a dozen feet
away； unable to crawl to her。 And as he recovered she recovered；
fluttering out of reach as his hungry hand went out to her。 The
chase was resumed。 Night settled down and she escaped。 He
stumbled from weakness and pitched head foremost on his face；
cutting his cheek； his pack upon his back。 He did not move for a
long while； then he rolled over on his side； wound his watch； and
lay there until morning。
Another day of fog。 Half of his last blanket had gone into foot…
wrappings。 He failed to pick up Bill's trail。 It did not matter。
His hunger was driving him too compellingly … only … only he
wondered if Bill； too； were lost。 By midday the irk of his pack
became too oppressive。 Again he divided the gold； this time merely
spilling half of it on the ground。 In the afternoon he threw the
rest of it away； there remaining to him only the half…blanket； the
tin bucket； and the rifle。
An hallucination began to trouble him。 He felt confident that one
cartridge remained to him。 It was in the chamber of the rifle and
he had overlooked it。 On the other hand； he knew all the time that
the chamber was empty。 But the hallucination persisted。 He fought
it off for hours； then threw his rifle open and was confronted with
emptiness。 The disappointment was as bitter as though he had
really expected to find the cartridge。
He plodded on for half an hour； when the hallucination arose again。
Again he fought it； and still it persisted； till for very relief he
opened his rifle to unconvince himself。 At times his mind wandered
farther afield； and he plodded on； a mere automaton； strange
conceits and whimsicalities gnawing at his brain like worms。 But
these excursions out of the real were of brief duration； for ever
the pangs of the hunger…bite called him back。 He was jerked back
abruptly once from such an excursion by a sight that caused him
nearly to faint。 He reeled and swayed； doddering like a drunken
man to keep from falling。 Before him stood a horse。 A horse！ He
could not believe his eyes。 A thick mist was in them； intershot
with sparkling points of light。 He rubbed his eyes savagely to
clear his vision； and beheld； not a horse； but a great brown bear。
The animal was studying him with bellicose curiosity。
The man had brought his gun halfway to his shoulder before he
realized。 He lowered it and drew his hunting…knife from its beaded
sheath at his hip。 Before him was meat and life。 He ran his thumb
along the edge of his knife。 It was sharp。 The point was sharp。
He would fling himself upon the bear and kill it。 But his heart
began its warning thump； thump； thump。 Then followed the wild
upward leap and tattoo of flutters； the pressing as of an iron band
about his forehead； the creeping of the dizziness into his brain。
His desperate courage was evicted by a great surge of fear。 In his
weakness； what if the animal attacked