though he had things to
consider, and he looked about with heavy eyes, trying to forget his
physical discomfort, while his mind wandered through a maze of confused
thought.

There was a half-moon in the sky, which was pitilessly clear, for
cloudiness might have made it warmer; when the firelight sank he could
see the slender spruce trunks cutting against the silvery radiance and
the hard glitter of the snow. Everything was tinted with blue and
white, and the deathly cold colouring depressed him. Then he began to
consider their position, which was serious. They were worn out and
half-fed; their furs were ragged, and shortage of money and the
difficulty of transport had forced them to cut down their camp
equipment. Indeed, looking back on the long march, he was surprised
that they had escaped crippling frostbite, although both Benson and
Harding were somewhat lame from the strain which the use of snowshoes
puts upon the muscles of the leg. There was, moreover, a risk of this
becoming dangerous.

He imagined that it must be two hundred miles to the Hudson's Bay post
and recognized that the chances were against their reaching it; but
just then a howl rang, harsh and ominous, through the frosty air, and
with a nervous start he reached for his rifle. The wolves had scented
them, and, turning his back to the light, he spent some minutes gazing
fixedly at the glistening white patches among the straggling trees, but
could make out none of the stealthy, flitting shapes he had half
expected to see. It was encouraging that the wolves had not overcome
their timidity of the fire. Keen hunger might have driven them to an
attack, and Blake had no illusions about the result of that. However,
since the fierce brutes were not starving, they must have found
something to eat, and what a wolf could eat would feed men who were by
no means fastidious. Seeing nothing that alarmed him, Blake resumed
his musing.

Their search for the gum had proved useless and he pitied Harding, who
had staked his future upon its success. The man had not complained
much, but Blake knew what he must feel and thought with compassion of
the lonely woman who had bravely sent his comrade out and was now
waiting for him in the mean discomfort of a cheap tenement. It was not
difficult to imagine her anxiety and suspense.

Next he began to ponder his own affairs, which were not encouraging,
though he did not think he really regretted the self-sacrificin