by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
THE ROCK-TRIPE.
They left their skin-couch at an early hour, close after daybreak.Hunger and anxiety drove them out of their tent. Not a morsel ofanything for breakfast! They looked abroad over the country, in order,if possible, to descry some living creature. None could be seen--nothing but the wilderness waste of snow, with here and there the sideof a steep hill, or a rock showing cold and bleak. Even the wolves thathad robbed them were no longer to be seen, as if these creatures knewthat they had got all that was worth having, and had now takenthemselves off to hunt for plunder elsewhere.
The situation of our travellers was really one of extreme peril,although it may be difficult for you, young reader, to conceive why itshould be so. They, however, knew it well. They knew that they mighttravel for days through that inhospitable region, without falling inwith anything that would make a single meal for them. But less timethan that would suffice to starve them all. Already they felt the pangsof hunger--for they had not eaten since their breakfast of the precedingday, the wolves having interrupted their preparations for dinner.
It was of no use remaining where they were; so, striking their tent oncemore, they travelled forward. It was but poor consolation to them thatthey travelled much lighter than before. They had nothing to carry buttheir guns, and these they had got ready for work--so that their journeypartook somewhat of the character of a hunting excursion. They did noteven follow a direct course, but occasionally turned to one side or theother, wherever a clump of willows, or any other roughness on theground, looked like it might be the shelter of game. But during thatwhole day--although they travelled from near sunrise to sunset--not aliving thing was seen; and for the second night they went supperless tobed.
A man will bear hunger for many days--some more, some less--withoutactually dying of it; but at no period will his sufferings be greaterthan during the third or fourth day. He will grow more feebleafterwards, but the pain which he endures will not be greater.
On the third day the sufferings of our party were extreme. They beganto chew pieces of their skin-tent and blankets; but although this tookthe sharp edge off their appetites, it added nothing to their strength;and they still craved for food, and grew feebler.
To use a poetical phrase, Marengo now became the "cynosure of everyeye." Marengo was not very fat. The sledge and short rations hadthinned him down, and his ribs could be easily traced. Although theboys, and Basil in particular, would have suffered much beforesacrificing him, yet starvation will reconcile a man to part with hisbest friend. In spite of their friendship for Marengo, his masterscould not help scanning him from time to time with hungry looks.Marengo was an old dog, and, no doubt, as tough as a piece oftan-leather; but their appetites were made up for anything.
It was near midday. They had started early, as on the day before. Theywere trudging wearily along, and making but little progress. Marengowas struggling with his sledge, feeble as any of the party. Basil sawthat the eyes of his companions were from time to time bent upon thedog; and though none of them said anything, he understood the thoughtsthat were passing within them. He knew that none of them wished topropose it--as Basil was the real master of Marengo--but their glanceswere sufficiently intelligible to him. He looked at the downcastcountenance of the once merry Francois,--at the serious air of Norman--at the wan cheek and sunken eye of Lucien, whom Basil dearly loved. Hehesitated no longer. His duty to his companions at once overcame hisaffection for his faithful dog.
"We must kill him!" said he, suddenly stopping, and pointing to Marengo.
The rest halted.
"I fear there's no help for it," said Norman, turning his face in everydirection, and sweeping the surface of the snow with hopeless glances.
Francois also assented to the proposal.
"Let us make a condition," suggested Lucien; "I for one could walk fivemiles farther." And as Lucien said this, he made an effort to standerect, and look strong and brave; but Basil knew it was an effort of_generosity_.
"No," said he,--"no, dear Luce. You are done up. We must kill thedog!"
"Nonsense, Basil, you mistake," replied the other; "I assure you I amfar from being done up. I could go much farther yet. Stay!" continuedhe, pointing ahead; "you see yonder rocks? They are about three milesoff, I should think. They lie directly in our course. Well, now, letus agree to this condition. Let us give poor Marengo a chance for hislife. If we find nothing before reaching those rocks, why then--"
And Lucien, seeing Marengo gazing up in his face, left the sentenceunfinished. The poor brute looked up at all of them as though heunderstood every word that they were saying; and his mute appeal, had itbeen necessary, would not have been thrown away. But it did not requirethat to get him the proposed respite. All agreed willingly withLucien's proposition; and, shouldering their pieces, the party moved on.
Lucien had purposely understated the distance to the rocks. It wasfive, instead of three miles; and some of them made it full ten, as theywere determined Marengo should have the benefit of every chance. Theydeployed like skirmishers; and not a brake or brush that lay to theright or left of the path but was visited and beaten by one or other ofthem. Their diligence was to no purpose. After two hours' weary work,they arrived among the rocks, having seen not a trace of eitherquadruped or bird.
"Come!" cried Lucien in his now feeble voice, still trying to lookcheerful, "we must pass through them. There is a chance yet. Let himhave fair play. The rocks were to be the limit, but it was not statedwhat part of them. Let us pass through to the other side--they do notextend far."
Encouraged by the words of Lucien, the party entered among the rocks,moving on separate paths. They had gone only a few paces, when a shoutfrom Norman caused the rest to look to him for an explanation. Noanimal was in sight. Had he seen any? No; but something that gratifiedhim certainly, for his voice and manner expressed it.
"What is it?" inquired the others, all speaking at the same time.
"_Tripe de roche_!" answered he.
"_Tripe de roche_?"
"Yes," replied Norman, "look there!" and he pointed to one of the rocksdirectly ahead of them, at the same time moving forward to it. Theothers hastened up after. On reaching the rock, they saw what Normanhad meant by the words _tripe de roche_ (rock-tripe). It was a black,hard, crumply substance, that nearly covered the surface of the rock,and was evidently of a vegetable nature. Lucien knew what it was aswell as Norman, and joy had expressed itself upon his pale cheeks at thesight. As for Basil and Francois they only stood waiting anexplanation, and wondering what value a quantity of "rock moss," as theydeemed it, could be to persons in their condition. Lucien soon informedthem that it was not a "moss," but a "lichen," and of that celebratedspecies which will sustain human life. It was the _Gyrophora_. Normanconfirmed Lucien's statement, and furthermore affirmed, that not onlythe Indians and Esquimaux, but also parties of voyageurs, had oftensubsisted upon it for days, when they would otherwise have starved.There are many species,--not less than five or six. All of them possessnutritive properties, but only one is a palatable food--the _Gyrophoravellea_ of botanists. Unfortunately, this was not the sort which ourvoyageurs had happened upon, as it grows only upon rocks shaded bywoods, and is rarely met with in the open barrens. The one, however,which Norman had discovered was the "next best," and they were all gladat finding even that.
The first thing to be thought of was to collect it, and all four set topeeling and scraping it from the rocks. The next thought was to make itready for eating. Here a new difficulty stared them in the face. The_tripe de roche_ had to be boiled,--it could not be eaten else,--andwhere was the fire? where was the wood to make one? Not a stick was tobe seen. They had not met with a tree during all that day's journey!
They were now as badly off as ever. The _tripe de roche_ would be of nomore use to them than so much dry grass. What could they do with it?
In the midst of their suspense, on
e of them thought of the sledge--Marengo's sledge. That would make a fire, but a very small one. Itmight do to cook a single meal. Even that was better than none.Marengo was not going to object to the arrangement. He looked quitewilling to part with the sledge. But a few hours before, it came nearbeing used to cook Marengo himself. He was not aware of that, perhaps,but no matter. All agreed that the sledge must be broken up, andconverted into firewood.
They were about taking it to pieces, and had already "unhitched" Marengofrom it, when Basil, who had walked to the other side of the rockyjumble, cried back to them to desist. He had espied some willows at nogreat distance. Out of these a fire could be made. The sledge,therefore, was let alone for the present. Basil and Francoisimmediately started for the willows, while Norman and Lucien remainedupon the spot to prepare the "tripe" for the pot.
In a short time the former parties returned with two large bundles ofwillows, and the fire was kindled. The _tripe de roche_, with somesnow--for there was no water near--was put into the pot, and the latterhung over the blaze.
After boiling for nearly an hour, the lichen became reduced to a softgummy pulp, and Norman thickened the mess to his taste by putting inmore snow, or more of the "tripe," as it seemed to require it. The potwas then taken from the fire, and all four greedily ate of its contents.It was far from being palatable, and had a clammy "feel" in the mouth,something like sago; but none of the party was in any way either daintyor fastidious just at that time, and they soon consumed all that hadbeen cooked. It did not satisfy the appetite, though it filled thestomach, and made their situation less painful to bear.
Norman informed them that it was much better when cooked with a littlemeat, so as to make broth. This Norman's companions could easilycredit, but where was the meat to come from? The Indians prefer the_tripe de roche_ when prepared along with the roe of fish, or whenboiled in fish liquor.
Our weary voyageurs resolved to remain among the rocks for that night atleast; and with this intent they put up their little tent. They did notkindle any fire, as the willows were scarce, and there would be barelyenough to make one or two more boilings of the rock-tripe. They spreadtheir skins within the tent, and creeping in, kept one another as warmas they could until morning.
