He had
something to make her her well--make her well--a silver fox--that
would do it--yes, that would do it--a silver fox would make her
well--dear little Emily.
From the distance there came over the frozen world a wolf's howl,
followed by another and another. The wolves were giving the cry of
pursuit. There must be many of them and they were after caribou or
game of some sort. This was the only impression the sound made upon
his numbed senses.
Daylight was coming. He was very sleepy--very, very sleepy. Why not go
to sleep? There was no reason for walking when it was so nice and warm
here--and he was so weary and sleepy. There were trees all around and
a nice white bed spread under them. He stumbled and fell and did not
try to get up. Why should he? There was plenty of time to go home. It
was so comfortable and soft here and he was so sleepy.
Then he imagined that he was in the warm tilt with the fire crackling
in the stove. He cuddled down in the snow, and said the little prayer
that he never forgot at night.
"Now-I-lay-me-down-to-sleep,
I-pray-thee-Lard-my-soul-to-keep,
If-I-should-die-before-I-wake
I-pray-thee-Lard-my-soul-to-take.
An'-God-make-Emily-well."
The wolves were clamouring in the distance.
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