I shall never forget a feed I had today as long as I live. We have not had any fish since leaving Labrador about a year ago so one can imagine how big red meated lake trout, fryed in butter, would taste to one having finished a good long tramp of sixty miles in the clear, cold, bracing arctic air.
I could not eat all of my three pound fish, but some of the party ate two.
The Doctor has enough of these fish to give us three such feeds. He and his Esquimaux left this evening for the Roosevelt. He started from Lake Hazen with two young musk-oxen hoping to get them to the ship alive. One soon died, and the other was killed by the dogs when lashed to the top of the sledge.