"Chippewayan is south and west." "North," said DeBar.

"I know of a breed who lives on Red Porcupine Creek, which runs into the Slave.

If we can find him we'll get grub, and if we don't--" He laughed openly into the other's face.
"We won't fight," said Philip, understanding him.
"No, we won't fight, but we'll wrap up in the same blankets, and die, with Woonga, there, keeping our backs warm until the last.

Eh, Woonga, will you do that ?" He turned cheerily to the dog, and Woonga rose slowly and with unmistakable stiffness of limb, and was fastened in the sledge traces.
They went on through the desolate gloom of afternoon, which in late winter is, above the sixtieth, all but night.

Ahead of them there seemed to rise billow upon billow of snow-mountains, which dwarfed themselves into drifted dunes when they approached, and the heaven above them, and the horizon on all sides of them were shut out from their vision by a white mist which was intangible and without substance and yet which rose like a wall before their eyes.