It was no ordinary battle, and he at last was forced to own himself vanquished.
His feet seemed like lead, a strange numbness stole over his frame, and his senses became confused.
“I shall perish if I stay here!” he murmured, and he had just strength enough to crawl under the overcoats with his companions.
The warmth of their bodies, he hoped, might prevent their freezing.
He was delighted after a few moments to find that all sensation of cold had left him.
Little did he think this the first signal of danger—the beginning of that lassitude preceding the sleep of death.
From beneath the covering he had one last glimpse of the starry heavens.
The northern lights flamed in the sky in rare effulgence and beauty.
A peaceful calm held all the scene in death-like stillness.
Almost overhead glimmered a radiant star he knew so well as the guide-lamp of the Arctic mariner.