And besides none knew, or ever thought, there was any other
river. And I could not forget about it, and was so sorry about it.
Only one river.
Saturday evening, October 3lst.--Donald Blake and Allan Goudy
returned from their trip, and sorry to hear the death of Mr.
Hubbard. They suppose he died the first evening we left him, by
telling of the signs, as he hasn't been out of the tent after the
first snow. Three or four caribou has been coming right near the
tent door, and going round the tent.
Donald and Allan tells of Mr. Hubbard and how they had found him
wrapped up in his blanket, like as he had been falling asleep, and
the tent door closed and all pinned up. I could tell then pretty
well how he has being, and that be has being doing as he said he
would, and has fallen asleep and has never woke. For I myself was
nearly at my finish, and knew how I felt, and how weak and sleepy I
used to feel, and often felt that I could just fall asleep and
never wake up again.
Donald and Allan brought all that was at the tent, Mr. Hubbard's
camera and his rifle and his diary. And I was so very much
surprised to see what he has written, and found a letter he has
been writing for me to Mr.
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