There was no sign
of life except what they brought with them out of the Arctic silence and
carried with them into the greater silence beyond. A little cloud of
steam enveloped them as they moved, the moisture from the breath of nine
moving creatures in a waste of emptiness.
Each of the men wrapped a long scarf around his mouth and nose for
protection, and as the part in front of his face became a sheet of ice
shifted the muffler to another place.
Night fell in the middle of the afternoon, but they kept traveling. Not
till they were well up toward the summit of the divide did they decide
to camp. They drove into a little draw and unharnessed the weary dogs.
It was bitterly cold, but they were forced to set up the tent and stove
to keep from freezing. Their numbed fingers made a slow job of the camp
preparations. At last the stove was going, the dogs fed, and they
themselves thawed out. They fell asleep shortly to the sound of the
mournful howling of the dogs outside.
Long before daybreak they were afoot again. Holt went out to chop some
wood for the stove while Gordon made breakfast preparations. The little
miner brought in an armful of wood and went out to get a second supply.
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