All winter, with no other
companion than a little dog, he works alone in that lonely wilderness.
One winter game was scarce, and Gilbert's provisions were practically
exhausted when he set out to strike up his traps preparatory to his
visit home in March. He was several miles from his tilt when suddenly
one of his snowshoes broke beyond repair. He could not move a step
without snowshoes, for the snow lay ten feet deep. He had no skin with
him with which to net another snowshoe, even if he were to make the
frame; and he had nothing to eat.
A Labrador blizzard came on, and Gilbert for three days was held
prisoner in his tent. He spent his time trying to make a serviceable
snowshoe with netting woven from parts of his clothing torn into
strips. When at last the storm ended and he struck his tent he was
famished.
Packing his things on his toboggan he set out for the tilt, but had
gone only a short distance when the improvised snowshoe broke. He made
repeated efforts to mend it, but always it broke after a few steps
forward. He was in a desperate situation.
He had now been nearly three days without eating.
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