rness had trained him
never to overlook the smallest precautions.

Hager took a handled pan from the pack. He filled it with snow and
then held the pan over the flames. When the snow melted, he filled a
tin cup with the liquid and went over to Cahill. He had to steady the
cup as the other drank.

Finally Cahill nodded. His eyes seemed to clear. He glanced about him,
and a dim worry moved in his face.

"Matt, where are we?"

"Somewhere near Boot Valley."

"You ... you mean we're lost?"

"I sort of got mixed up in the storm. Nothing to worry about."

Cahill shivered suddenly. "We got to reach town, Matt. Got to see the
doctor."

Hager nodded. "How do you feel?"

"It's getting worse. I can feel it getting worse. I'm cold now, Matt.
Before ... before I was...." Cahill's voice trailed off. He had to
make an effort before he was able to speak again. "Got ... got to see
the doctor, Matt. Can't waste any time."

"I know," Hager said. "But the team needs a little rest. They've had a
lot of heavy hauling, and there's still a distance to go."

Cahill nodded miserably, shivering. He burrowed into the furs, still
shivering, breathing rapidly through parted lips. Slowly the chill
left him. His eyes clouded again. Then his lids fell, and he dozed
once more.

Hager brewed tea and drank it slowly, squatting before the fire. Then
he packed and lighted his pipe. He stared into the flames with
narrowed eyes, seeing his dreams pictured there. They were pleasant
dreams.

Hager remained in the ravine until the supply of wood was gone. Then
he fastened the dogs back into their traces and resumed his position
behind the sled. With shouts and cracks of the whip, he guided the
animals out of the ravine, following the downward slope of the land
this time.

The snow stopped falling after a while, but the wind and the cold
increased. The cold hung on the air like an enormous, transparent
weight. Somehow it seemed to give an impossible crystalline purity to
the snow blanketing the trees and the land. In doing so, it emphasized
and magnified its very presence. It made itself something almost alive
and sentient, icily malignant, overbearing, utterly cruel and without
mercy.

Hager cursed the cold with redoubled venom. Despite the thickness of
his fur parka and the layers of clothing beneath the cold seemed to
soak into him like an all-penetrating liquid. He had to wave his arms
and stamp his feet to fight back a creeping numbness.