River, Baroney, old hoss," called the men. "Here's wishin' you fat meat, doctor, sir—an' the same for the rest of us."
"I'll follow the main trail in two days and catch up," the lieutenant had promised. "But nobody is to wait for me until meat has been secured. Do your best, doctor. There are rations for only forty-eight hours."
It was another lean day. Although the three did do their best, scouting in advance from the river to the hills, and exploring the side draws, oftentimes waist deep in the snow, they stirred never a hoof nor paw, and rarely a feather. That was discouraging.
Now and again they saw the main party, who had crossed the river and were toiling along, down the other flank of its winding course.
"Not a thing sighted by us, and not a gunshot heard from those other fellows," the doctor sighed, at evening. "Well, we'd better go over and join them, for camp, and try again in the morning."
They made for the fire that was twinkling, below and beyond; crossed the river upon the ice, and arrived.
"Any luck, sir?" queried Sergeant Meek, of the doctor.
"None to-day sergeant; but we have hopes for to-morrow."
