“THERE WAS A LOUD CRACK, AND MYSELF, DOGS, AND SLED WERE PRECIPITATED INTO THE WATER.”
The night grew darker, and it was soon almost impossible to see the trees on either side of the river, except at such times as the trail veered to one side or the other; then the trees would be discernible, standing up stark and naked, like gigantic skeletons rising from the snow. In the zenith the Polar star glowed brilliantly, while as far as the eye could reach the snow lay like a gleaming shroud on the earth. Not a sound was to be heard save the panting of the dogs, the crunch of snow under my frozen moccasins, and, somewhere in the distance, the howl of an animal. I cared for nothing, thought of nothing, desired nothing, save to reach Faith Creek. Time and again I was ready to drop, but I still kept on, spurred by the thought that I was fighting for my life, for I knew that once I gave way to the lassitude that seemed to be gripping my senses, my life would pay the forfeit. I had heard so much of lone “mushers” on the trail, who had lain down on the snow for a sleep from which they never awoke, that I was prepared to struggle on to the last.
Soon the dogs began to tire, and it was only by persistent effort that I could keep them from lying down in the snow. They were so weary, poor brutes, that it was cruelty to whip them; all I could do was to pat them and encourage them with my voice. Nellie tried to lick my frozen gauntlet, or, half in play, to bite my numbed hand.
Still I kept on, hoping against hope that I should soon see the light in the Faith Creek cabin. I kept shouting, but all the answer I got was a mocking echo. Blundering through snow-drifts, with the wind-blown snow driving against my face like particles of glass, the dogs panting with exertion or moaning from the pain of their lacerated feet, without a sign of a trail or landmark, and with my feet in a peculiar condition of insensibility, still I staggered blindly but persistently towards my goal.
At eight o’clock I was still on the trail; but somehow a doubt began to take possession of me that perhaps I had missed the cabin altogether and was wandering towards the Twelve-mile Divide.
“I SAW TWO MEN APPROACHING ME, AND AT ONCE STRUGGLED TO MY FEET.”
All at once the dogs stopped, and on stepping ahead to see what was the matter I found they were tangled in their harness. I tried to bend over to release them, but my clothes were so stiff that I found it impossible, and I lurched over, falling head-foremost into a drift.
I tried to raise myself to a sitting position, only to fall back weakly. A new sensation seemed to be taking possession of me. I no longer desired to struggle; a mysterious warmth appeared to surround me, and a drowsiness stole over my senses. My only wish was to be left alone to sleep. I was just dozing off when Nellie, my leading dog, lifted up her nose and gave vent to a weird, wolf-like howl, which she repeated after a few seconds’ interval. I gazed at her with an almost ludicrous amazement, wondering stupidly why she was making such a noise. Almost simultaneously with her second howl I heard a shout and, to my amazement, saw a lantern shining through the trees. I at once realised that help was at hand, and immediately the desire for sleep left me. A wild longing for life, for warmth, for food, asserted itself instead, and I gave a yell that must have sounded like the war-whoop of an Apache Indian. A moment later I saw two men approaching me, and at once struggled to my feet. Through the trees came the shouted query, “Are you all right?” “I’m all right,” I answered. “Where’s the cabin?” By this time the two men had reached me, and one of them, looking hard into my face, exclaimed, “Why, your nose is frozen!”
He put his arm round me and helped me to the cabin, while the other man took charge of my dogs. I found that the cabin was only about a hundred yards from the place where I had lain down to sleep, but, owing to the fact that it was built in a grove of trees, it was impossible to see it until one was close to it. It seems almost ironical that had it not been for the howl of a dog I would surely have died within a hundred yards of warmth and shelter.