INTO THE STORM 



could possibly be off the track. The snow swallowed 

 him up again, but somehow I felt less chilly for his 

 words. 



Happily we had stopped close to a straggling bush, 

 so I was able to cut some twigs for a fire without 



y risk of losing myself. I lit my fire in a niche of 

 rock, and put on a kettleful of snow, and then 



mped up and down to get a little warmth into me. 

 On my way to the snow house I trod on what looked 

 like a mound of snow in the river bed. The mound 

 got up and yelped, and I saw that I was among the 

 dogs. They were peacefully blanketed by the snow, 

 content to remain buried until the drivers woke them 

 up in the morning. Of supper they had no thought, 

 for they had not got over their breakfast by any 

 means. The one I had trodden on settled down 

 again as soon as he found that the disturbance was 

 neither the signal for work nor the beginning of a 

 fight, and in a few moments he was, to all intents 

 and purposes, a snow- covered stone as before. I 

 picked my way carefully among the others, mindful 

 of my precious kettle, and struggled through the low 

 doorway into the snow house. That particular snow 

 house was the smallest I have ever had, for the men 

 had no time to waste over comfort ; shelter was all 

 we wanted. They gave me the longest diameter, 

 but I had to draw my knees up to lie down at all, and 

 the uncomfortable cramped attitude would have 

 been enough to drive sleep away even if I had not 

 suffered the added annoyance of a sleeping-bag 

 partly filled with snow. Imagine taking off your 

 sodden boots, and poking your stockinged feet into 

 what ought to be the snug warmth of a thick, 

 blanket-lined sealskin bag, only to meet an icy mass 



175 



