The intense cold of the air, thick with gray sifted ice, searched the
warmth from his body and sapped his vitality. His numbed legs doubled
under him like springs. He was down and up again a dozen times, but always
the call of life drove him on, dragging his helpless burden with him.
That he did find the safety of the cabin in the end was due to no wisdom
on his part. He had followed unconsciously the dip of the ground that led
him into the little draw where it had been built, and by sheer luck
stumbled against it. His strength was gone, but the door gave to his
weight, and he buckled across the threshold like a man helpless with
drink. He dropped to the floor, ready to sink into a stupor, but he shook
sleep from him and dragged himself to his feet. Presently his numb fingers
found a match, a newspaper, and some wood. As soon as he had control over
his hands, he fell to chafing hers. He slipped off her dainty shoes,
pathetically inadequate for such an experience, and rubbed her feet back
to feeling. She had been torpid, but when the blood began to circulate,
she cried out in agony at the pain.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59