Hello and welcome to this pod episode 20. With Halloween
coming up, everyone is sharing spooky stories. I wish to share
with you a tale of terror. It doesn't involve monsters or
aliens or even murderers. Just a simple tale of a man against one
of his greatest foes. Nature. And this case, extreme cold. For
those of you who are new here, some episodes of meat as Potter
full cast affairs with Foley in music, sometimes I just want to
tell you a story like this one. Before we start, I'd like to
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to build a fire by Jack London. Day had dawned cold and gray
when the man turned aside from the main Yukon trail. He climbed
the high Earth bank where a little traveled trail led east
through the pine forest. It was a high bank and a pause to
breathe at the top. He excused the act to himself by looking at
his watch. It was nine o'clock in the morning. There was no sun
or promise of sun. Although there was not a cloud in the
sky. It was a clear day. However, there seemed to be an
indescribable darkness over the face of things. That was because
the sun was absent from the sky. This factor did not worry the
man he was not alarmed by the lack of sun. It had been days
since he had seen the sun. The men looked along the way he had
come. The Yukon lay a mile wide and hidden under three feet of
ice on top of the ice, whereas many feet of snow. It was all
pure white. North and South, as far as I could see was an
unbroken white. The one thing that relieved the whiteness was
a thin dark line that curved from the pine covered Islands to
the south. It curved into the north where it disappeared
behind another pine covered Island. This dark line was the
trail the main trail. It led South 500 miles to the Chilkoot
pass and salt water. It led north 75 miles to Dawson and
still further on to the north 1000 miles to new lotto. And
finally, to St Michael on Bering Sea 1000 miles and a half more.
But all this the distant trail, no sun in the sky, the great
cold and the strangeness of it all had no effect on the man. It
was not because he was long familiar with it. He was a
newcomer in the land, and this was his first winter. The
trouble with him was that he is not able to imagine. He was
quick and ready in the things of life, but only in the things and
not their meanings. 50 degrees below zero meant 80 degrees of
frost. Such facts told him that it was cold and uncomfortable.
And that was all. It did not lead him to consider his
weakness as a creature affected by temperature. Nor did he think
about man's general weakness, able to live only within a
narrow limit of heat and cold. From there it did not lead him
to thoughts of Heaven and the meaning of a man's life. 50
degrees below zero meant a bite of frost that hurt and that must
be guarded against by the use of mittens ear coverings, warm
moccasins and thick socks. 50 degrees below zero was to him
nothing more than 50 degrees below zero. That it should be
more important than that was a thought that never entered his
head. As he turned to go, he forced some water from it. His
mouth as an experiment, there was a sudden noise that
surprised him. He tried it again and again in the air before they
could fall to the snow. The drops of water became ice that
broke with the noise. He knew that at 50 below zero water from
the mouth made a noise when it hit the snow. But this had done
that in the air. Undoubtedly it was colder than 50 below. But
exactly how much colder he did not know. But the temperature
did not matter. He was headed for the old camp on Henderson
Creek, where the boys were already they had come across the
mountain from the Indian Creek Country. He had taken the long
trail to look at the possibility of floating logs from the island
and the Yukon down the river when the ice melted. He would be
in camp by six o'clock that evening. It would be a little
after dark, but the boys would be there. A fire would be
burning, and a hot supper would be ready. As he thought of
lunch, he pressed his hands against the package under his
jacket. It was also under his shirt, wrapped in a
handkerchief, and lying for warmth against his naked skin.
Otherwise the bread would freeze. He smiled contently to
himself as he thought of those pieces of bread, each of which
enclosed a generous portion of cooked meat.
He plunged among the big pine trees. The trail was not well
marked here. several inches of snow had fallen since the last
sled had passed. He was glad he was without a sled. Actually, he
carried nothing but the lunch wrapped in the handkerchief. He
was surprised, however, at the cold. It certainly was cold he
decided as He rubbed his nose and face with his mittened hand.
He had a good growth of hair on his face, but it did not protect
his nose or the upper part of his face from the frosty air.
Following the man's heels was a big native dog, and was a wolf
dog gray coated and not noticeably different from its
brother, the wild wolf. The animal was worried by the great
cold. It knew that this was no time for traveling. Its own
feeling was closer to the truth than the man's judgment. And
reality it was not merely colder than 50 below zero. It was
colder than 60 below than 70 below. It was 75 below zero.
Because the freezing point is 32 above zero. It meant that there
were 107 degrees of frost. The dog did not know anything about
temperatures, possibly and its brain there was no understanding
of a condition of very cold, such as was in the man's brain.
But the animals sense to the danger. It's fear made it
question eagerly every movement of the man as if it were
expecting him to go into a camp or seek shelter somewhere and
build a fire. The dog had learned about fire and it wanted
fire. Otherwise it would dig itself into the snow and find
the shelter from the cold air. The frozen moistness of its
breath had settled on its fur and a fine powder of frost. The
hair on the man's face was similarly frosted, but more
solidly. It took the form of ice and increased with every warm,
moist breath from his mouth. Also, the man had tobacco in his
mouth. The ice held his lips so tightly together that he could
not empty the juice from his mouth. The result was a long
piece of yellow ice hanging from his lip. If he fell down, it
would break like glass into many pieces. He expected the ice
formed by the tobacco juice, having been out twice before
when it was very cold. But it had not been as cold as this. He
knew. He continued through the level forest for several miles.
Then he went down a bank to the frozen path of a small stream.
This was Henderson Creek, and he knew he was 10 miles from where
the stream divided. He looked at his watch. It was 10 o'clock. He
was traveling at the rate of four miles an hour. Thus, he
figured that he would arrive where the stream divided at half
past 12 He decided that he would eat lunch when he arrived there.
The dog followed again at his heels and its tail hanging low
as the man started to walk along the frozen stream. The old sled
trail can be seen but it doesn't inches of snow covered the marks
of the last sled. And a month no man had traveled up or down that
silent Creek, the man went steadily ahead. He was not much
of a thinker. At that moment, he had nothing to think about,
except that he would eat lunch at the streams divide. And then
at six o'clock, he would be in the camp with the boys. There
was nobody to talk to, and had there been speech would have not
been possible because of the ice around his mouth. Once in a
while, the thought repeated itself that it was very cold,
and that he had never experienced such cold as he
walked along and rubbed his face and knows what the back of his
mitten hand. He did this without thinking, frequently changing
hands. But with all this rubbing, the instant he stopped,
his face and nose became numb, his face would surely be frozen.
He knew that he was sorry that he had not worn the sort of nose
guard bud wore when it was cold. Such a guard passed across the
nose and covered the entire face. But it did not matter
much. He decided what was a little frost, a bit painful.
That was all. It was never serious. Empty as the man's mind
was of thoughts, he was most observant. He noticed the
changes in the creek, the curbs and the bends, and he always
noted where he placed his feet. Once coming around the bend, he
moved suddenly to the side, like a frightened horse.
He curved away from the place where he had been walking and
retracted his steps several feet along the trail. He knew the
creek was frozen to the bottom. No Creek could contain water in
that winter. But he also knew that there were streams of water
that came out of the hillsides and ran under the snow and on
top of the ice of the creek. He knew that even in the coldest
winter the streams were never frozen. And he also knew their
danger. They hid pools of water under the snow that might be
three inches deep, or three feet. Sometimes a skin of ice
half an inch thick covered them and in turn was covered by the
snow. Sometimes there were both water and thin ice. And when a
man broke through, he could get very wet. That was why he had
jumped away so suddenly, he had felt the ice move under his
feet. He had also heard the noise of the snow covered ice
skin breaking and to get his feet wet in such a temperature
meant trouble and danger. At the very least emit delay, because
he would be forced to stop and build a fire. Only under its
protection could he bear his feet while he dried his socks
and moccasins. He stood and studied the creek bottom and its
banks. He decided that the flowing stream of water came
from the right side. He thought a while rubbing his nose and
face. Then he walked to the left. He stepped carefully and
tested the ice at each step. Once away from the danger, he
continued at his four mile pace. During the next two hours he
came to several similar dangers. Usually the snow above the pool
has sunken appearance. However, once again, he came near to
falling through the ice. Once since in danger, he made the dog
go ahead, the dog did not want to go. It hesitated until the
man pushed it forward. And then it went quickly across the white
unbroken surface. Suddenly it fell through the ice, but
climbed out on the other side which was firm. It had wet its
feet and legs. Almost immediately the water on them
turned to ice. The dog make quick efforts to get the ice off
his legs. Then it lay down in the snow and began to bite out
the ice that had formed between its toes. The animal knew enough
to do this. To permit the eyes to remain would mean sore feet.
It did not know this. It merely obeyed the command that arose
from the deepest part of its being. But the man knew these
things having learned them from experience. He removed the
mitten from his right hand and help the dog tear out the pieces
of ice. He did not bear his fingers more than a minute and
was surprised to find that they were numb. It certainly was
cold. He pulled on the mitten quickly and beat the hand across
his breast. At 12 o'clock the day was at its brightest. Get
the sun did not appear in the sky at half past 12 on the
minute he arrived at the divide in the creek. He was pleased at
his rate of speed. If he continued he would certainly be
with the boys by six o'clock that evening. He unbuttoned his
jacket and shirt and pulled forth his lunch. The action took
no more than a quarter of a minute. Yet in that brief
moment. The numbness touched his bare fingers he didn't not put
the mitten on, but instead struck his fingers against his
leg. Then he sat down on a snow covered log to eat. The pain
that followed the striking of his fingers against his legs
ceased so quickly that he was frightened. He had not time to
take a bite of his lunch. He struck them fingers repeatedly,
and returned them to the mitten. Then he bared the other hand for
the purpose of eating. He tried to make a mouthful, but the ice
around his mouth prevented him. Then he knew what was wrong. He
had forgotten to build a fire and warm himself. He laughed at
his own foolishness. As he laughed he noted the numbness of
his bare fingers. Also, he noted that the feeling which had first
come to his toes when he sat down was already passing away.
He wondered whether the toes were warm or whether they were
numb. He moved them inside the moccasins and decided that they
were numb. He pulled them at non hurriedly and stood up. He was
somewhat frightened. He stamped forcefully until feeling
returned to his feet. It certainly was cold, was his
thought. That man from Silver Creek had spoken the truth when
telling how cold is sometimes gotten in this country. And he
had laughed at him at the time. That showed one must not be too
sure of things.
There was no mistake about it. It was cold. And he walked a few
steps, stamping his feet and waving his arms until reassured
by the returning warm. Then he took some matches and proceeded
to make a fire. And the bushes the high water had left some
live sticks. From here, he got wood for his fire. Working
carefully From a small beginning, he soon had a roaring
fire. Bending over the fire, he first melted the ice from his
face. With the protection of the fires warmed he ate his lunch.
For the moment, the cold had been forced away. The dog took
comfort in the fire lying at full length close enough for
warmth and far enough away to escape being burned. When the
man had finished eating, he filled his pipe with tobacco and
had a comfortable time with a smoke. Then he pulled on his
mittens, settled his cap firmly about his ears and started along
the creek trail toward the left. The dog was sorry to leave and
look toward the fire. This man did not know cold. Possibly none
of his ancestors had known cold, real cold. But the dog knew and
all of his family do. And it knew that it was not good to
walk outside and such a fearful cold. Who has the time to lie in
a hole in the snow and wait for the awful cold to stop. There
was no real bond between the dog and the man. The one was the
slave of the other. The dog made no effort to indicate its fears
to the man. It was not concerned with the well being of the man.
It was for its own sake that looked toward the fire. But the
man whistled and spoke to it with the sound of the whip and
his voice. So the dog started walking close to the man's heels
and followed him along the trail. The man put more tobacco
in his mouth and started a new growth of yellow ice on his
face. Again, the moist breath quickly powdered the hair on his
face with white. He looked around. There did not seem to be
so many pools of water under the snow on the left side of
Henderson Creek. And for half an hour the man saw no signs of
any. And then it happened. At a place where there were no signs
the man broke through. It was not deep. He was wet to the
knees before he got out of the water to the firm's know. He was
angry and cursed his luck allowed. He had hoped to get
into the camp with the boys at six o'clock and this would delay
him an hour. Now he would have to build a fire and dry his
moccasins and socks. This was most important at that low
temperature. He knew that much. So he turned aside to the bank,
which he climbed on top under several small pines. He found
some firewood which had been carried there by the high water
of last year that were sticks but also some larger branches
and some dry grasses. He threw several large branches on top of
the snow. This served for a foundation and prevented the
young flame from dying in the wet snow. He made a flame by
touching a match to a small piece of tree bark that he took
from his pocket. This burned even better than paper, placing
it on the foundation he fed the young flame with pieces of dry
grass, and with the smallest dry sticks. He worked slowly and
carefully realizing his danger. Gradually, as the flame grew
stronger, he increased the size of his sticks with which he fed
it. He sat in the snow, pulling the sticks from the bushes under
the trees and feeding them directly to the flame. He knew
he must not fail. When is 75 below zero, a man must not fail
in his first attempt to build a fire. This is especially true
when his feet are wet. If his feet are dry, and he fails, he
can run along the trail for half a mile to keep his blood moving.
But the blood and wet feet freezing cannot be kept moving
by running when it's 75 degrees below. No matter how fast he
runs, the wet feet will freeze even harder. All this the man
knew. The old man on Silver Creek had told him about it. And
now he was grateful for the advice. Already, all feeling was
gone from his feet. To build the fire, he had been forced to
remove his mittens, and the fingers have quickly become
numb. His pace so four miles an hour had kept his heart pushing
the blood to all parts of his body. But the instant he
stopped, the action of the heart slowed down.
He now received the full force of the cold. The blood of his
body drew back from it. The blood was alive, like the dog.
Like the dog, it wanted to hide and seek cover away from the
fearful cold. As long as he walked four miles an hour, the
blood rose to the surface. But now it sank down into the lowest
depths of his body. His feet and hands were the first to feel its
absence. His wet feet froze first, his bare fingers were
numb. Although they had not yet begun to freeze, nose and face
were already freezing, while the skin of his body became cold as
it lost its blood. But he was safe. Toes and nose and face
would be only touched by the frost. Because the fire was
beginning to burn with strength. He was feeding it with sticks
the size of his finger and another minute he would be able
to feed it with larger branches. Then he could remove his wet
moccasins and socks. While they dried, he could keep his naked
feet warm by the fire, rubbing them first with snow. The fire
was a success. He was safe. He remembered the advice of the old
man at soul for Creek and smiled. The man had been very
serious when he said that no man should travel alone in the
country after 50 below zero. Well, here he was. He had had
the accident. He was alone, and he had saved Himself. Those old
men were rather womanish he thought all A man must do is
keep his head and he was all right. A man who was a man could
travel alone. But it was surprising the rapidity of which
his face and nose were freezing. And he had not thought his
fingers could lose their feeling and so shorter time without
feeling they were because he found it very difficult to make
them move together to grasp the stick. They seemed far from his
body and from him. When he touched a stick, he had a look
to see whether or not he was holding it. All of which
mattered little. There was a fire promising life with every
dancing flame. He started to untie his moccasins. They were
coated with ice. The thick socks were like iron, almost to the
knees. The moccasins strings were like ropes of steel. For a
moment, he pulled them with his unfeeling fingers. Then
realizing the foolishness of it. He grasped his knife. But before
he could cut the strings, it happened. It was his own fault.
Or instead his mistake. He should not have built the fire
under the pine tree. He should have built it in an open space.
It had been easier to pull the sticks from the brush and drop
them directly into the fire. Now the tree under which he had done
this carried a weight of snow on its branches. No wind had been
blowing for weeks and each branch was heavy with snow. Each
time he pulled a stick. He shook the tree slightly. There had
been just enough movement to cause the awful thing to happen.
High up in the tree one branch dropped. It's load of snow that
fell on the branches beneath. This process continued spreading
through the whole tree. The snow fell without warning upon the
man and the fire and the fire was dead. Where it had burned
was a pile of fresh snow. The man was shocked. It was like
hearing his own judgment of death. For a moment he sat and
stared at the spot where the fire had been. And he grew very
calm. Perhaps the old man on Silver Creek was right. If he
had a companion on the trail, he would be in no danger. Now, the
companion could have built the fire. Now he must build the fire
again, and the second time, he must not fail. Even if he
succeeded, he would be likely to lose some toes. His feet must be
badly frozen by now. And there will be some time before a
second fire was ready. Such were his thoughts. But he did not sit
and think them. He was busy all the time they were passing
through his mind. He made a new foundation for the fire, this
time in an open space where no tree would be above it. Next, he
gathered dry grasses and tiny sticks. He could not bring his
fingers together to pull them out of the ground, but he was
able to gather them by the handful.
And this way, he also got many pieces that were undesirable,
but it was the best he could do. He worked carefully, even
collecting an arm full of the larger branches to be used when
the fire gathered strength. And all the while the dog sat and
watched him. There was anxious looking at ties, but it depended
on him as the fire provider, and the fire was slow and coming.
When all was ready, the man reached his pocket for the
second piece of tree bark. He knew the bark was there,
although he could not feel it with his fingers. He tried again
and again. But he could not grasp it all the time. In his
mind. He knew that each instant his feet were freezing. This
thought alarmed him. But he fought past it and kept calm. He
pulled on his mittens with his teeth and began swinging his
arms. Then he beat his hands with all his strength against
suicides. He did this while he was sitting down. Then he stood
up to do it. All the while the dog sat in the snow its tail
curled warmly over its feet, and it sharp wolf ears bent behind
it as it looked at the man. And the man as he waved his arms and
hands looked with longing at the creature that was warm and
secure, and the covering provided by nature. After a time
he began to notice some feelings in his beaten fingers. The
feeling grew stronger until it became very painful. But the man
welcome to the pain. He pulled them in from his right hand and
grasped the tree bark in his pocket. The bear fingers were
quickly now again. Next, he brought out a pack of matches.
But the awful cold had already driven the life out of his
fingers and has ever to separate one match from the others the
whole pack fell in the snow. He tried to pick it out of the snow
but failed, the dead fingers could neither touch nor hold.
Now he was very careful. He drove the thought of his
freezing feet and nose and face from his mind. He devoted his
whole soul to picking up the matches. He followed the
movement of his fingers with his eyes, using his sense of sight
instead of that of touch. When he saw his fingers on each side
of the packet, he closed them. That is He willed to close them.
Because the fingers did not obey. He put the mitten on his
right hand and beat it fiercely against his knee. Then, with
both mittened hands, he lifted up the pack of matches, along
with much snow to the front of his jacket. But he had gained
nothing. After some struggling, he managed to get the pack
between his mittened hands. In this manner, he carried it to
his mouth. The eyes broke as he opened his mouth with a fierce
effort. He used his upper teeth to rub against the pack in order
to separate a single match. He succeeded and getting one which
he dropped on his jacket is good condition was no better. He
could not pick up the match. Then he thought how he might do
it. He picked up the match in his teeth and drew it across his
leg 20 times he did this before he succeeded in lighting it. As
it flamed he held it with his teeth to the tree bark. But the
burning smell went up his nose causing him to cough. The match
fell into the snow and the flame died. The old man on sulphur
Creek was right. He thought in the moment of controlled despair
that followed. After 50 below zero, a man should travel with a
companion. He beat his hands but failed to produce any feeling in
them. Suddenly, he buried both hands, removing the mittens with
his teeth. He caught the whole pack of matches between his
hands, his arm muscles were not frozen, and he was able to press
his hands tightly against the matches. Then he drew the whole
pack along his leg, it burst into flame 70 matches at once.
There was no wind to blow them out. He kept his head to one
side to escape the burning smell and held the flaming pack to the
tree bark. As he so held it, he noticed some feeling in his
hand. His flesh was burning, he could smell it. The feeling
developed into pain, he continued to endure it. He held
the flame of the matches to the bark that would not like readily
because his own burning hands were taking most of the flame.
Finally, when he could endure no more, he pulled his hands apart,
the flaming matches fell into the snow, but the tree bark was
burning.
He began laying dry grasses and the tiniest sticks on the flame.
He could not choose carefully because they must be pieces that
could be lifted between his hands. Small pieces of grass
stayed on the sticks, and he bid them off as well as he could
with his teeth. He treated the flame carefully. It meant life
and it must not cease. The blood had left the surface of his
body, and he had now began to shake from the cold. A large
piece of wet plant fell on a little fire. He tried to push it
out from his fingers, his shaking body made him push it
too far, and he scattered the little fire over a wide space.
He tried to push the burning grasses and sticks together
again. Even with the strong effort that he made, his
trembling fingers would not obey and the sticks were hopelessly
scattered. Each stick smoked a little and died. The fire
provider had failed. As he looked about him, his eyes
noticed the dog sitting across the ruins of the fire from him.
It was making uneasy movements, slightly lifting one foot and
then the other. The side of the dog put a wild idea into his
head. He remembered a story of a man caught in a storm, who
killed an animal and sheltered himself inside the dead body,
and thus was saved. He would kill the dog and bury his hands
in a warm body until the feeling returned to them. And then he
could build another fire. He spoke to the dog, calling it to
him. But in his voice was a strange note of fear that
frightened the animal. It had never known the man to speak in
such a tone before something was wrong. And it's since danger. It
knew not what danger. But somewhere in its brain arose a
fear of the man. It flattened to tears at the sound of the man's
voice. It's uneasy movement and the liftings of its feet became
more noticeable, but it would not come to the human. He got
down on his hands and knees and went to the dog. For this
unusual position again excited fear and the animal moved away.
The man sat in the snow for a moment and struggled for
calmness. Then he pulled on his mittens using his teeth, and
then he stood on his feet. He glanced down to assure himself
that he was really standing because the lack of feeling his
feet gave him no relation to the earth. His position, however,
removed the fear from the dog's mind. When he commanded the dog
with his usual voice, the dog obeyed and came to him. As it
came within his reach, the man lost control. His arm stretched
out to hold the dog and he experienced real surprise when
he discovered that his hands could not grasp. There was
neither bend nor feeling in the fingers. He had forgotten for
the moment that they were frozen and that they were freezing more
and more. All this had happened quickly and before the animal
could escape he encircled its body with his arms. He sat down
in the snow and in this fashion held the dog while It barked and
struggled. But it was all he could do. Hold its body and
circled in his arms and sit there. He realized that he could
not kill the dog. There was no way to do it. With his frozen
hands he could neither draw nor hold his knife. nor could he
grasp the dog around the throat. He freed it and dashed wildly
away still barking. It's not 40 feet away and observed him
curiously, with ears sharply bent forward. The man looked out
of his hands to locate them and found them hanging on the ends
of his arms. He thought it curious that it was necessary to
use his eyes to discover where his hands were. He began waving
his arms, beating the mitten hands against his sides. He did
this for five minutes. His heart produced enough blood to stop
the shaking, but no feeling was created in his hands. A certain
fear of death came upon him. He realized that it was no longer a
mere problem of freezing his fingers and toes, or of losing
his hands or feet. Now, it was a problem of life and death, with
the circumstances against him. The fear made him lose control
of himself, and he turned and ran along the creek bed. On the
Old Trail, the dog joined him and followed closely behind him.
The man ran blindly in fear, such as he had never known in
his life. Slowly, as he struggled through the snow, he
began to see things again, the banks of the creek, the bear
trees and the sky.
The running made him feel better, he did not shake
anymore. Maybe if he continued to run, his feet would stop
freezing. Maybe if he ran far enough, he would find the camp
and the boys. Without doubt, he would lose some fingers and toes
and some of his face, but the boys would take care of him, and
save the rest of him when he got there. And at the same time,
there was another thought in his mind. That said he would never
get to the camp and the boys. It told him that it was too many
miles away, that the freezing had to greatest art, and that he
would soon be dead. He pushed this thought to the back of his
mind and refuse to consider it. Sometimes it came forward and
demand to be heard. As he pushed it away, he tried to think of
other things. It seemed strange to him that he could run on feet
so frozen, that he could not feel them when they struck the
earth and took the weight of his body. He seemed to be flying
above the surface, and to have no connection with the earth.
His idea of running until he arrived at the camp with the
boys presented one problem. He lacked the endurance. Several
times he caught himself as he was falling. Finally, he dropped
to the ground, unable to stop his fall. When he tried to rise,
he failed. He must sit and rest, he decided next time he would
merely walk and keep going. As he sat and regained his breath,
he noted that he was feeling warm and comfortable. He was not
shaking, and it even seemed that a warm glow had come to his
body. And yet, when he touched his nose or face, there was no
feeling running would not bring life to them, nor would it help
his hands or feet. Then the thought came to him that the
frozen portions of his body must be increasing. He tried to keep
this thought out of his mind and to forget. He knew that such
thoughts caused a feeling of frightened him, and he was
afraid of such feelings. But the thought returned and continued
until he could picture his body totally frozen. This was too
much. And he again ran wildly along the trail once he slowed
to a walk, but the thought that the freezing of his body was
increasing made him run again. And all the time the dog ran
with him at his heels. When he fell a second time, the dog
curled its tail over its feet and sat in front of him facing
him. Curiously eager. The warmth and security of the animal
angered him. He cursed it, and it flattened to tears. This
time, the shaking because of the cold began more quickly. He was
losing the battle with the frost. It was moving into his
body from all sides. This thought drove him forward, but
he ran no more than 100 feet when he fell headfirst. It was
his last moment of fear. When he had recovered his breath in his
control, he sat and thought about meeting death with
dignity. However, the idea did not come to him in exactly this
manner. His idea was that he had been acting like a fool. He had
been running around like a chicken with its head cut off.
He was certain to freeze in his present circumstances, and he
should accept it calmly. With this newfound peace of mind that
came the first sleepiness a good idea he thought to sleep his way
to death. Freezing was as an Not as bad as people thought. There
were many worse ways to die. He pictured the boys finding his
body the next day. Suddenly he saw himself with them, coming
along on the trail and looking for himself. And still with
them. He came around a turn of the trail and found himself
lying in the snow. He did not belong with himself anymore.
Even then, he was outside of himself, standing with the boys
and looking at himself in the snow, and certainly was cold was
his thought. When he returned to the United States, he could tell
the folks what real cold was. His mind went from this to the
fall of the old man at sulphur Creek. He could see him quite
clearly warm and comfortable and smoking a pipe. You're right old
fellow. You're right. he murmured to the Old Man of
sulfur Creek. Then the man dropped into what seemed to him
the most comfortable and satisfying sleep he had ever
known.
The dogs that facing him and waiting. The brief day ended in
a long evening. There are no signs of a fire can be made.
Never in the dog's experience hadn't known a man to sit like
that in the snow, and make no fire. As the evening grew
darker, its eager longing for a fire mastered it. With much
lifting of its feet, it cried softly than it flattened its
ears, expecting the man's curse, but the man remained silent.
Later, the dog Howard loudly, and still later, it moved close
to the man and caught the smell of death. This made the animal
back away. A little longer, a delayed, howling at the stars
that leaped and danced and shone brightly in the cold sky. Then
it turned and ran along the trail towards the camp it knew
where there were the other food providers and fire providers
meet us pause and meet US media production. All rights reserved
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Remember, if it's more than 50 below, travel with a buddy. Have
a good one, folks. We'll see you next time.