Macgregor staggered to his feet, full of terrible cramps and pains in every muscle. But his head had cleared somewhat. He saw the dry birch tree and again tried to fumble for a match. Almost by sheer luck he succeeded in striking it. The birch bark caught fire and flamed crackling up the trunk. The dry trunk itself caught and burned like a torch.
Macgregor rubbed his face and hands savagely with snow. They hurt intensely, but he welcomed the pain, for it showed that they were not frozen. He was beginning to feel a little more life when he heard the creak and flap of snowshoes, and saw Fred and Maurice hurrying up the river toward him.
"What's the matter?" they shouted, as soon as within hearing distance. "We heard the shot. See any wolves?"
Mac tried to shout something in answer, but found that he could not speak distinctly.
"I see you've bagged one," cried Fred, rushing up. "Why, man, you're covered with ice! What's happened to you?"
"Been in the river," Peter managed to ejaculate. "Get my moccasins off, boys—rub feet with snow. Afraid—I'm going—to lose toes!"
With exclamations of sympathy the boys got his frozen outer clothing off,—broke it off, in fact, from the caked ice,—removed his moccasins and socks, and rubbed his feet with snow. Several of the toes had whitened, but they regained color after some minutes' rubbing, and began to hurt excruciatingly. Peter squirmed with the pain.
"But I don't mind it," he said. "Rub away, boys. I certainly thought I was going to lose part of my feet."
Perhaps the solid cake of ice that had instantly formed over his heavy socks and moccasins had actually protected them from freezing. At any rate, he got off much more easily than he would have thought possible. The attack of the wolves had left little mark on him, either. He had a few light lacerations on his hands and face, but for the most part the beasts seemed to have laid hold on him where the thick, ice-caked cloth was almost like armor plate. And no doubt the arrival of the pack had saved him from death by freezing.
Fred dragged up the carcass of the fallen wolf and skinned its head and ears for the Government bounty. The rest of the pelt was so terribly torn with buckshot as to be worthless.