They were unkempt, worn out, and ragged; and in the past week they had traveled a long way through fresh snow on short rations.

Ahead of them lay a vast and almost untrodden desolation; behind them a rugged wilderness which there seemed no probability of their being able to cross.

Lured by the hope of finding what they sought, they had pushed on from point to point; and now it was too late to return.
Presently Blake got up.
"Our best chance is to kill a caribou, and this is the kind of country they generally haunt.

The sooner we look for one, the better; so I may as well start at once.

There'll be a moon to-night." He threw off his blanket and, picking up a Marlin rifle, which was their only weapon, strode out of camp; and as he was a good shot and tracker they let him go.