He grabs all his matches-seventy-and lights them simultaneously, then sets fire to a piece of bark. His fingers numb and nearly lifeless, he unsuccessfully attempts to light a match. The man is scared, and sets himself to building a new fire, aware that he is already going to lose a few toes from frostbite. It capsized lower boughs in turn until a small avalanche had blotted out the fire. Each time he pulled a twig, he had slightly agitated the tree until, at this point, a bough high up had capsized its load of snow. Though building a fire in the open would have been wiser, it had been easier for the man to take twigs from the spruce tree and drop them directly below on to the fire. The man unties his icy moccasins, but before he can cut the frozen strings on them, clumps of snow from the spruce tree above fall down and snuff out the fire. He remembers the old-timer from Sulphur Creek who had warned him that no man should travel in the Klondike alone when the temperature was fifty degrees below zero. His feet and fingers are numb, but he starts the fire. He curses his luck starting a fire and drying his foot-gear will delay him at least an hour. The man continues on and, in a seemingly safe spot, falls through the snow and wets himself up to his shins. He walks along a creek trail, mindful of the dangerous, concealed springs even getting wet feet on such a cold day is extremely dangerous. As it grows colder, he realizes his unprotected cheekbones will freeze, but he does not pay it much attention. The cold does not faze the man, a newcomer to the Yukon, who plans to meet his friends by six o'clock at an old claim.
A man travels in the Yukon (near the border of current day Alaska) on an extremely cold morning with a husky wolf-dog.
0 kommentar(er)
