sleep on the instant. A rifle shot aroused us, and Potokomik jumped
to his feet with the exclamation, "Igloo!" We followed him toward
where Kumuk was shouting, through a bit of bush, down a bank, across a
frozen brook and up a slope, where we found a miserable little log
shack. No one was there. It was a filthy place and snow had drifted
in through the openings in the roof and side. The previous occupant
of the hut had left behind him an ax and an old stove, and with a few
sticks of wood that we found a fire was started and we huddled close
to it in a vain effort to get warm. When the fire died out we found
places to lie down, and, shivering with the cold, tried with poor
success to sleep.

I had another chill that night and severe cramps in the calves of my
legs, and when morning came and Easton said he could not travel
another twenty yards, I agreed at once to a plan of the Eskimos to
leave us there while they went on to look for other Eskimos whom they
expected to find in winter quarters east of Whale River. Potokomik
promised to send them with dogs to our rescue and then go on with a
letter to Job Edmunds, the Hudson's Bay Company's agent at Whale
River. This letter to Edmunds I scribbled on a stray bit of paper I
found in my pocket, and in it told him of our position, and lack of
food and clothing.

Potokomik left his rifle and some cartridges with us, and then with
the promise that help should find us ere we had slept three times, we
shook hands with our dusky friend upon whose honor and faithfulness
our lives now depended, and the three were gone in the face of a
blinding snowstorm.

Shortly after the Eskimos left us we heard some ptarmigans clucking