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before it could fall to the snow； the spittle crackled。 He knew that at fifty
below spittle crackled on the snow； but this spittle had crackled in the air。
Undoubtedly it was colder than fifty belowhow much colder he did not
know。 But the temperature did not matter。 He was bound for the old
claim on the left fork of Henderson Creek； where the boys were already。
They had come over across the divide from the Indian Creek country；
while he had come the roundabout way to take a look at the possibilities of
getting out logs in the spring from the islands in the Yukon。 He would be
in to camp by six o'clock； a bit after dark； it was true； but the boys would
be there； a fire would be going； and a hot supper would be ready。 As for
lunch； he pressed his hand against the protruding bundle under his jacket。
It was also under his shirt； wrapped up in a handkerchief and lying against
the naked skin。 It was the only way to keep the biscuits from freezing。
He smiled agreeably to himself as he thought of those biscuits； each cut
open and sopped in bacon grease； and each enclosing a generous slice of
fried bacon。
He plunged in among the big spruce trees。 The trail was faint。 A
foot of snow had fallen since the last sled had passed over； and he was
glad he was without a sled； travelling light。 In fact； he carried nothing
but the lunch wrapped in the handkerchief。 He was surprised； however；
at the cold。 It certainly was cold； he concluded； as he rubbed his numbed
nose and cheek…bones with his mittened hand。 He was a warm…
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whiskered man； but the hair on his face did not protect the high cheek…
bones and the eager nose that thrust itself aggressively into the frosty air。
At the man's heels trotted a dog； a big native husky； the proper wolf…
dog； grey…coated and without any visible or temperamental difference
from its brother； the wild wolf。 The animal was depressed by the
tremendous cold。 It knew that it was no time for travelling。 Its instinct
told it a truer tale than was told to the man by the man's judgment。 In
reality； it was not merely colder than fifty below zero； it was colder than
sixty below； than seventy below。 It was seventy…five below zero。 Since
the freezing…point is thirty…two above zero； it meant that one hundred and
seven degrees of frost obtained。 The dog did not know anything about
thermometers。 Possibly in its brain there was no sharp consciousness of a
condition of very cold such as was in the man's brain。 But the brute had
its instinct。 It experienced a vague but menacing apprehension that
subdued it and made it slink along at the man's heels； and that made it
question eagerly every unwonted movement of the man as if expecting
him to go into camp or to seek shelter somewhere and build a fire。 The
dog had learned fire； and it wanted fire； or else to burrow under the snow
and cuddle its warmth away from the air。
The frozen moisture of its breathing had settled on its fur in a fine
powder of frost； and especially were its jowls； muzzle； and eyelashes
whitened by its crystalled breath。 The man's red beard and moustache
were likewise frosted； but more solidly； the deposit taking the form of ice
and increasing with every warm； moist breath he exhaled。 Also； the man
was chewing tobacco； and the muzzle of ice held his lips so rigidly that he
was unable to clear his chin when he expelled the juice。 The result was
that a crystal beard of the colour and solidity of amber was increasing its
length on his chin。 If he fell down it would shatter itself； like glass； into
brittle fragments。 But he did not mind the appendage。 It was the penalty
all tobacco… chewers paid in that country； and he had been out before in
two cold snaps。 They had not been so cold as this； he knew； but by the
spirit thermometer at Sixty Mile he knew they had been registered at fifty
below and at fifty…five。
He held on through the level stretch of woods for several miles；
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crossed a wide flat of nigger…heads； and dropped down a bank to the
frozen bed of a small stream。 This was Henderson Creek； and he knew
he was ten miles from the forks。 He looked at his watch。 It was ten
o'clock。 He was making four miles an hour； and he calculated that he
would arrive at the forks at half…past twelve。 He decided to celebrate that
event by eating his lunch there。
The dog dropped in again at his heels； with a tail drooping
discouragement； as the man swung along the creek…bed。 The furrow of
the old sled…trail was plainly visible； but a dozen inches of snow covered
the marks of the last runners。 In a month no man had come up or down
that silent creek。 The man held steadily on。 He was not much given to
thinking； and just then particularly he had nothing to think about save that
he would eat lunch at the forks and that at six o'clock he would be in camp
with the boys。 There was nobody to talk to and； had there been； speech
would have been impossible because of the ice…muzzle on his mouth。 So
he continued monotonously to chew tobacco and to increase the length of
his amber beard。
Once in a while the thought reiterated itself that it was very cold and
that he had never experienced such cold。 As he walked along he rubbed
his cheek…bones and nose with the back of his mittened hand。 He did this
automatically； now and again changing hands。 But rub as he would； the
instant he stopped his cheek…bones went numb； and the following instant
the end of his nose went numb。 He was sure to frost his cheeks； he knew
that； and experienced a pang of regret that he had not devised a nose…strap
of the sort Bud wore in cold snaps。 Such a strap passed across the cheeks；
as well； and saved them。 But it didn't matter much； after all。 What were
frosted cheeks？ A bit painful； that was all； they were never serious。
Empty as the man's mind was of thoughts； he was keenly observant；
and he noticed the changes in the creek； the curves and bends and timber…
jams； and always he sharply noted where he placed his feet。 Once；
coming around a bend； he shied abruptly； like a startled horse； curved
away from the place where he had been walking； and retreated several
paces back along the trail。 The creek he knew was frozen clear to the
bottomno creek could contain water in that arctic winterbut he knew
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also that there were springs that bubbled out from the hillsides and ran
along under the snow and on top the ice of the creek。 He knew that the
coldest snaps never froze these springs； and he knew likewise their danger。
They were traps。 They hid pools of water under the snow that might be
three inches deep； or three feet。 Sometimes a skin of ice half an inch
thick covered them； and in turn was covered by the snow。 Sometimes
there were alternate layers of water and ice…skin； so that when one broke
through he kept on breaking through for a while； sometimes wetting
himself to the waist。
That was why he had shied in such panic。 He had felt the give under
his feet and heard the crackle of a snow…hidden ice…skin。 And to get his
feet wet in such a temperature meant trouble and danger。 At the very
least it meant delay； for he would be forced to stop and build a fire； and
under its protection to bare his feet while he dried his socks and moccasins。
He stood and studied the creek…bed and its banks； and decided that the
flow of water came from the right。