grets, for Obvious Reasons, Having to Do with the Dogs, that He Had Not Brought an A

nor hair to show. The fire failed: it was dark; and the wind blew up-and higher. A bleak place, this, on Schooner Bay, somewhere between the Thimble and the Scotchman's Breakfast of Ginger Head; yet there was no hardship in the night-no shivering, blue agony of cold, but fu

y miles from the Thimble, across Schooner Bay, to the Scotchman's Breakfast of Ginger Head, and a matter of thirty miles inland to Rattle Brook-wherefrom you may comp

yielded to the irresis

ake. There was a crackling confusion-in the dark, all roundabout, near and far-like the crumpling of an infinitely gigantic sheet of crisp paper: and then nothing but th

ken from the cliffs and was split in fields and fragments. It would move out and go abroad with the high southwest wind. That was bad enough, yet not, perhaps, a mortal predicament-the wind would not run out from the southwest forever; and an escape ashore fr

gth and wakefulness, as long as a dog. Billy Topsail saw himself attempt the death of one of the pack-the pursuit of Cracker, for example, with a club torn from the komatik. Cracker would easily keep his distance and paw the ice, head do

some lapse from caution or the ultimate moment of weakness; and then an overwhelming rush. Billy Topsail knew the dogs of his own coast. He knew his own dogs; all he did not know about his own dogs was

e. A thin little plaint broke i

there,

re. You lie

atter with th

s. Never you mind about the

tch your axe,

ipper Teddy-n

hought. Is the i

, never you min

broke

ybe she have

sea in this wi

you m

't s

ay take a bit of

. An interval of silence fell. A

ther s

il's rebuke

t' cry for your

goin' t' cry

isn't. No gro

Brisk in a saucy flash of prid