The storm was one of those sudden outbursts of anger that winter in
his waning power inflicts upon the world in protest against the coming
spring supplanting him, and as a reminder that he still lives and
carries with him his withering rod of chastisement and breath of
destruction. But he was now so old and feeble that in a single night
his strength was spent, and when morning dawned the sun arose with a
new warmth and the wind had ceased to blow.
The men beneath the snow did not move. It was quite useless for them
to get up. There was nothing that they could do, and they might as
well be sleeping as wandering aimlessly about the ice field.
The dogs, however, thought differently. They had not been fed the
previous night, and bright and early they were up, nosing about within
the limited area afforded them by the length of their traces. One of
them began to dig away the snow around the komatik. He paused, held
his nose into the drift a moment and sniffed, then went vigorously to
work again with his paws. Soon he grabbed something in his fangs. The
others joined him, and the snarling and fighting that ensued aroused
Bob and the sleeping Eskimos.
Aluktook was the first to throw off the snow and look out to see what
the trouble was about Then he shouted and jumped to his feet, kicking
the dogs with all his power.
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