We are eighty miles from Great
Fish River, and the worst yet to do. We have discovered no signs.
Jeff Hyde has had a bad two days with his frozen foot. Gaspe
Toujours helps him nobly. One of the dogs died this morning.
Bouche is a great leader. This night's shelter is a god-send.
Cloud-in-the-Sky has a plan whereby some of us will sleep well. We
are in latitude 63deg 47' and longitude 112deg 32' 14". Have worked
out lunar observations. Have marked a tree JH/27 and raised cairn
No. 3.
We are able to celebrate Christmas Day with a good basin of tea and
our stand-by of beans cooked in fat. I was right about them: they
have great sustaining power. To-morrow we will start at ten
o'clock.
The writing done, Jaspar Hume put his book away and turned towards the
rest. Cloud-in-the-Sky and Late Carscallen were smoking. Little could be
seen of their faces; they were snuffled to the eyes. Gaspe Toujours was
drinking a basin of tea, and Jeff Hyde was fitfully dozing by the fire.
The dogs were above in the tent--all but Bouche, who was permitted to be
near his master. Presently the sub-factor rose, took from a knapsack a
small tin pail, and put it near the fire.
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