Once more on land, a camp was made, and a fire kindled to thaw out our stiffened limbs, while we awaited an opportunity to cross. The mist continued the rest of the day, preventing us from making a second attempt, and so we lay up for the night.
Next morning the fog had cleared away, revealing a dismal sight. On the south side the river was frozen over, and the ice firmly set for a mile or more from shore, while the channel of open water to the north was running full of heavy ice, making it quite impossible to use the boat, and equally impossible to effect a crossing on foot.
We had no alternative but to remain where we were, and hope for a change in the condition of the river. Not the least unpleasant feature of this waiting was that our provisions were now gone.
The men were at once sent out to hunt, and returned in the evening with nine ptarmigan, with which a good bouillon was made for supper. Besides this, Eli, the Indian boy, gave us some comforting information as to the existence of a fish cache of his father's, not far distant. With this consoling knowledge we rolled up in our blankets and were soon dreaming of better times.
The next morning, there being no change in the river, two men and the dogs were sent after William's fish cache, and four others went off hunting, while the rest remained at camp, collected wood, and kept the fire burning.
We had nothing to eat this day until evening, when the sledding party returned with a little bag and can of pounded dried fish, two or three gallons of seal oil, and some seal blubber for the dogs, all of which, though not exactly luxurious, we were heartily glad to receive.
