Oh yes! His own old 44 Marlin was lying far down the river under eight-and-fifty hours of snow. It angered him newly and more than ever to remember that if he had a shot at anything now it must needs be by favour of the Colonel.
They listened for that sound again, the first since leaving Anvik not made by themselves.
"Seems a lot quieter than it did," observed the Colonel by-and-bye.
The Boy nodded.
Without preface the Colonel observed: "It's five days since I washed my face and hands."
"What's the good o' rememberin'?" returned the Boy sharply. Then more mildly: "People talk about the bare necessaries o' life. Well, sir, when they're really bare you find there ain't but three—food, warmth, sleep."
Again in the distance that hollow baying.
"Food, warmth, sleep," repeated the Colonel. "We've about got down to the wolf basis."
He said it half in defiance of the trail's fierce lessoning; but it was truer than he knew.
They built up the fire to frighten off the wolves, but the Colonel had his rifle along when they went over and crawled into their sleeping-bag. Half in, half out, he laid the gun carefully along the right on his snow-shoes. As the Boy buttoned the fur-lined flap down over their heads he felt angrier with the Colonel than he had ever been before.