ruins of the fire from him, in the snow, making restless, hunching
movements, slightly lifting one forefoot and then the other, shifting its
weight back and forth on them with wistful eagerness.

The sight of the dog put a wild idea into his head. He remembered the
tale of the man, caught in a blizzard, who killed a steer and crawled
inside the carcass, and so was saved. He would kill the dog and bury his
hands in the warm body until the numbness went out of them. 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, who had
never known the man to speak in such way before. Something was the
matter, and its suspicious nature sensed danger,--it knew not what danger
but somewhere, somehow, in its brain arose an apprehension of the man. It
flattened its ears down at the sound of the man's voice, and its
restless, hunching movements and the liftings and shiftings of its
forefeet became more pronounced but it would not come to the man. He got
on his hands and knees and crawled toward the dog. This unusual posture
again excited suspicion, and the animal sidled mincingly away.

The man sat up in the snow for a moment and struggled for calmness. Then
he pulled on his mittens, by means of his teeth, and got upon his feet.
He glanced down at first in order to assure himself that he was really
standing up, for the absence of sensation in his feet left him unrelated
to the earth. His erect position in itself started to drive the webs of
suspicion from the dog's mind; and when he spoke peremptorily, with the
sound of whip-lashes in his voice, the dog rendered its customary
allegiance and came to him. As it came within reaching distance, the man
lost his control. His arms flashed out to the dog, and he experienced
genuine surprise when he discovered that his hands could not clutch, that
there was neither bend nor feeling in the lingers. He had forgotten for
the moment that they were frozen and that they were freezing more and
more. All this happened quickly, and before the animal could get away,
he encircled its body with his arms. He sat down in the snow, and in
this fashion held the dog, while it snarled and whined and struggled.

But it was all he could do, hold its body encircled in his arms and sit
there. He realized that he could not kill the dog. There was no way to
do it. With his helpless hands he could neither draw