Shelter from that frosty wind was imperative in Archie's case. He made no complaint, for it was not in his nature to complain; but, strong to endure as he was, and stout as his spirit was, the cold, striking through the fur and wool about him, was having its inevitable effect.
When Bill moved off, dragging his burden of pelt, the boy calmly waited until the stalwart figure had been reduced to an outline; then, with heavy steps, but fixed purpose to acquit himself like a man, he followed, keeping his distance. Osmond came next. Young Billy had the exposed position—a station of honour in which he exulted—at the other end of the line.
Bill gave the signal, which was passed along by Archie to Osmond and by him to Billy, and they faced about and moved forward in the direction in which the hummock lay.
Archie searched the gloom for the gray shape of the hummock. It was a shelter—a mere relief. But how despairingly he searched for a sight of that formless heap of ice! Soon he began to stumble painfully. Once he lost sight of Bill o' Burnt Bay. Then he faltered, fell and could not rise. It was the watchful Bill who picked him up.
"What's this, b'y?" Bill asked, his voice shaking.
"I fell down," Archie answered, sharply. "That's all."
"I'll carry you, b'y," Bill began. "I'll carry you, if——"
Archie roughly pushed the man away. Then he stumbled forward, keeping his head up.
At that moment, Osmond, who was like a shadow to the right, gave the signal. So Bill knew that Billy, whom he could not see, had chanced upon the hummock. He caught Archie up in his arms, against the boy's protests and struggles, and ran with him to Osmond, and thence to Billy, all the time dragging his "tow."
When they reached the lee of the ice, Archie lay quietly in Bill's arms. He was about to fall asleep, as Bill perceived.