Suddenly he clenched his fists.
His hollow racking cough convulsed him again.
"Home!" he panted, clutching his chest.

"It's eighty miles straight north--to the Churchill--and I pray to God we'll get there--with the kids--before my lungs give out." He rose to his feet, and staggered a little as he walked.

There was a collar about Kazan's neck, and he chained him to the sledge.

After that he dragged three or four small logs upon the fire, and went quietly into the tent where Joan and the baby were already asleep.

Several times that night Kazan heard the distant voice of Gray Wolf calling for him, but something told him that he must not answer it now.