By the time the fire was built the wind was a gale sending the flames leaping in every direction--up the rocks and up our arms as we broiled the bacon.

Breakfast was a failure, as far as comfort was concerned.

It was a relief when we finally tramped out the embers and resumed our journey.
The top of a long snow-drift was a previously chosen land-mark.

It was seven when we reached the top of it.

Some one came out on the Bay in a row-boat--we were too high for recognition--thought better of it and went back.