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