camp fire and talked the matter over. "It's a dangerous undertaking,
Easton," I said, "and I want you to understand thoroughly what you're
going into. Before we reach the George River Post we shall have over
four hundred miles of territory to traverse. We may have trouble in
locating the George River, and when we do find it there will be heavy
rapids to face, and its whole course will be filled with perils. If
any accident happens to either of us we shall be in a bad fix. For
that reason it's always particularly dangerous for less than three men
to travel in a country like this. Then there's the winter trip with
dogs. Every year natives are caught in storms, and some of them
perish. We shall be exposed to the perils and hardships of one of the
longest dog trips ever made in a single season, and we shall be
traveling the whole winter. I want you to understand this."

"I do understand it," he answered, "and I'm ready for it. I want to go
on."

And so it was finally settled.

It was not easy for me to tell the men that the time had come when we
must part, for I realized how hard it would be for them to turn back.
The next morning after breakfast, I asked them to remain by the fire
and light their pipes. Then I told them. Richards' eyes filled with
tears. Stanton at first said he would not turn back without me, but
finally agreed with me that it was best he should. Pete urged me to
let him go on. Later he stole quietly into the tent, where I was
alone writing, and without a word sat opposite me, looking very woe-
begone. After awhile he spoke: "To-day I feel very sad. I forget to
smoke. My pipe go out and I do not light it. I think all time of
you. Very lonely, me. Very bad to leave you."