For no truly brave man will complain when things go wrong in the game of life.

And up there on The Labrador the game of life is a man's game and every man who wins must play it like a man, with faith and courage.
The weeks that followed were trying and tedious ones.

Sometimes there was not much to eat, when the hunting was poor, but they thanked God there was always something.
But when February came at last there was not food enough to render it possible for them to make the long journey to the ice edge with safety.
Living now was from hand to mouth.

Each day they must hunt for what they would eat that day.

Grouse and rabbits were the game upon which they usually relied, but Fate had cast this as one of those years when the rabbits disappear from the land as it is said they do every nine years.
Be that as it may, not one was killed that winter and not a track was seen.