"I have eaten it all!"
The young Englishman's white face grinned at him.
"I've got the flour inside of me, Thoreau--you've got the moose-bird.
Isn't that fair?"
The plate dropped between them. Over it their hands met in a great,
clutching grip, and up from Jan's heart there welled words which
almost burst from his lips in voice, words which rang in his brain,
and which were an unspoken prayer--"Melisse, I thank the great God
that it is this man whom you love!" But it was in silence that he
staggered to his feet and went out into the gloom.
"This may be only a lull in the storm," he said. "We must lose no
time. How long did you travel before you made this camp?"
"About ten hours," said Dixon. "I made due west by compass until I
knew that I had passed Lac Bain, and then struck north."
"Ah, you have the compass," cried Jan, his eyes lighting up. "M'seur
Dixon, we are very near to the post if you camped so soon! Tell me
which is north."
"That is north."
"Then we go south--south and east. If you traveled ten hours, first
west and then north, we are northwest of Lac Bain."
Jan spoke no more, but got his rifle from the shelter and put only the
tea and two pails in his pack; leaving the remaining blanket upon the
snow. The Englishman followed close behind him, bending weakly under
the weight of his gun.
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