- "November 6
The Breens and I were lucky. We've found refuge in a deserted cabin that may have been built some years ago by a fur trapper. The cabin is very crude....There are holes in the roof. The stove is broke, but it is a great improvement on being outside. Outside where the storm rages, and the wind screams through the mountaintops and over the lake. Outside where the last few cattle are dying almost without complaint, as if grateful the end is near. Soon we will eat the frozen cattle....And then, when that is gone, what shall we eat? Shall we eat the snow? Shall we eat the ice? Shall we eat the bark on the frozen trees? What shall we eat?"
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