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Updated: May 12, 2025
The hunters traveled on on on, ever listening for the haunting mourn. Another dusk found them within thirty miles of their cabin. Only one more day now. Rea talked of his furs, of the splendid white furs he could not bring. Jones talked of his little muskoxen calves and joyfully watched them dig for moss in the snow. Vigilance relaxed that night. Outworn nature rebelled, and both hunters slept.
Jackoway out of wood! Jackoway out of wood! Jackoway out of wood!" On the day following the desertion, Jones found tracks to the north of the camp, making a broad trail in which were numerous little imprints that sent him flying back to get Rea and the dogs. Muskoxen in great numbers had passed in the night, and Jones and Rea had not trailed the herd a mile before they had it in sight.
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