For two days past we have travelled
down our old trail with light packs. We left a lot of flour wet -
about 11 miles below here, 12 miles (approximately) below that
about a pound of milk powder, 4 miles below that about 4 pounds of
lard. We counted on all these to help us out in our effort to
reach the head of Grand Lake where we hoped to find Skipper Tom
Blake's trapping camp and cache. On Thursday as stated, I busted.
Friday and Saturday it was the same. I saw it was probably useless
for me to try to go farther with the boys, so we counselled last
night, and decided they should take merely half a blanket each,
socks, etc., some tea, tea pail, cups, and the pistols, and go on.
They will try to reach the flour to-morrow. Then Wallace will
bring a little and come back to me. George will go on to the milk
and lard and to Skipper Blake if he can, and send or lead help to
us. I want to say here that they are two of the very best,
bravest, and grandest men I ever knew, and if I die it will not be
because they did not put forth their best efforts. Our past two
days have been trying ones. I have not written my diary because so
very weak. Day before yesterday we caught sight of a caribou, but
it was on our lee, and, winding us, got away before a shot could be
fired.
Yesterday at an old camp, we found the end we had cut from a flour
bag. It had a bit of flour sticking to it. We boiled it with our
old caribou bones and it thickened the broth a little. We also
found a can of mustard we had thrown away. I sat and held it in my
hand a long time, thinking how it came from Congers and our home,
and what a happy home it was. Then I took a bite of it and it was
very good. We mixed some in our bone broth and it seemed to
stimulate us. We had a bit of caribou skin in the same pot. It
swelled thick and was very good. Last night I fell asleep while
the boys were reading to me. This morning I was very, very sleepy.
After the boys left - they left me tea, the caribou bones, and
another end of flour sack found here, a rawhide caribou moccasin,
and some yeast cakes - I drank a cup of strong tea and some bone
broth. I also ate some of the really delicious rawhide, boiled
with the bones, and it made me stronger - strong to write this. The
boys have only tea and one half pound pea meal (erbswurst). Our
parting was most affecting. I did not feel so bad. George said,
"The Lord help us, Hubbard. With His help I'll save you if I can
get out." Then he cried. So did Wallace. Wallace stooped and
kissed my cheek with his poor, sunken, bearded lips several times -
and I kissed George did the same, and I kissed his cheek. Then
they went away. God bless and help them.
I am not so greatly in doubt as to the outcome. I believe they
will reach the flour and be strengthened, that Wallace will reach
me, that George will find Blake's cache and camp and send help. So
I believe we will all get out.
My tent is pitched in open tent style in front of a big rock. The
rock reflects the fire, but now it is going out because of the
rain. I think I shall let it go and close the tent, till the rain
is over, thus keeping out wind and saving wood. To-night or to-
morrow perhaps the weather will improve so I can build a fire, eat
the rest of my moccasins and have some bone broth. Then I can boil
my belt and oil-tanned moccasins and a pair of cowhide mittens.
They ought to help some. I am not suffering. The acute pangs of
hunger have given way to indifference. I am sleepy. I think death
from starvation is not so bad. But let no one suppose that I
expect it. I am prepared, that is all. I think the boys will be
able with the Lord's help to save me.
NARRATIVE BY GEORGE ELSON
LAST DAYS TOGETHER
Friday, October 9th. - We got up good and early. Only tea we had,
expecting when we got to our rapid to have something to eat. After
going about 2 miles we came to our old camp where we camped on our
way up where we had a goose that Mr. Hubbard had killed. I also
had killed one. We went ashore to see if we could find some of the
old bones. We gathered all we could find and ate them all.
Mr. Hubbard said, "I often have seen dogs eating bones and thought
it was pretty hard lines for them, but it must be only fun for
them."
Before coming to our rapid, the rapid we had always talked about
where we thought we would get lots of fish, I told Mr. Hubbard and
Wallace my dream I had that night. It did not seem like a dream
but more like some one talking to me. When travelling this summer
when we began to be out of grub, if we dreamt of having a good meal
at some restaurant we often told it to each other next morning.
This morning my dream was: -
A man came to me and told me, "You will get to the rapid to-day and
I cannot spare you more than two or three meals of fish, and do not
waste much time there.
