--but we could not all hope
to live. In fact, I had no hope any of us would, at that time, but it
seemed better to die fighting.

In spite of my care the struggling dog bit me rather badly in the leg.
I suppose my numb hands prevented my holding his throat as I could
ordinarily do. Moreover, I must hold the knife in the wound to the
end, as blood on the fur would freeze solid and make the skin useless.
In this way I sacrificed two more large dogs, receiving only one more
bite, though I fully expected that the pan I was on would break up in
the struggle. The other dogs, who were licking their coats and trying
to get dry, apparently took no notice of the fate of their
comrades,--but I was very careful to prevent the dying dogs crying
out, for the noise of fighting would probably have been followed by
the rest attacking the down dog, and that was too close to me to be
pleasant. A short shrift seemed to me better than a long one, and I
envied the dead dogs whose troubles were over so quickly. Indeed, I
came to balance in my mind whether, if once I passed into the open
sea, it would not be better by far to use my faithful knife on myself
than to die by inches. There seemed no hardship in the thought. I
seemed fully to sympathize with the Japanese view of hara-kiri.

Working, however, saved me from philosophizing. By the time I had
skinned these dogs, and with my knife and some of the harness had
strung the skins together, I was ten miles on my way, and it was
getting dark.

Away to the northward I could see a single light in the little village
where I had slept the night before, where I had received the kindly
hospitality of the simple fishermen in whose comfortable homes I have
spent many a night. I could not help but think of them sitting down to
tea, with no idea that there was any one watching them, for I had told
them not to expect me back for three days.

Meanwhile I had frayed out a small piece of rope into oakum, and mixed
it with fat from the intestines of my dogs. Alas, my match-box, which
was always chained to me, had leaked, and my matches were in pulp. Had
I been able to make a light, it would have looked so unearthly out
there on the sea that I felt sure they would see me. But that chance
was now cut off. However, I kept the matches, hoping that I might dry
them if I lived through the night. While working at the dogs, about
every five minutes I would stand up and wave my hands toward the land.
I had no fla