trees and dashed the rain spitefully against the tent. The water
dripped through on us, and the candle flickered and sputtered and
almost went out. In the weird light I could see the faces of the men
work with emotion. For a moment no one spoke. Finally Richards, in a
tone of reproach that made me feel sorry for the very suggestion,
asked: "Do you think there's a quitter here?"

The loyalty and grit of the men touched my heart. Not one of them
would think of leaving me. Nothing but a positive order would have
turned them back, and I decided to postpone our parting until we
reached Michikaumau at least, if it could be postponed so long
consistently with safety.

The next day was Sunday, and it was spent in rest and in preparation
for our advance up the trail. The weather was damp and cheerless,
with rain falling intermittently throughout the day.

To cover a possible retreat a cache was made near our camp of thirty
pounds of pemmican in tin cans and forty-five pounds of flour and some
tea in a waterproof bag. A hole was dug in the ground and the
provisions were deposited in it, then covered with stones as a pro-
tection from animals.

By Monday morning the storm had gained new strength, and steadily and
pitilessly the rain fell, accompanied by a cold, northwest wind.

What narrowly escaped being a serious accident occurred when we halted
that day for dinner. Easton was cutting firewood, when suddenly he
dropped the ax he was using with the exclamation "That fixes me!" He
had given himself what looked at first like an ugly cut near the shin