The day grew steadily darker and in the tops of the trees there was the low moaning of a storm.
Darkness and the coming of the storm did not drive Pierre Radisson into camp.

"We must reach the river," he said to himself over and over again.
"We must reach the river--we must reach the river--" And he steadily urged Kazan on to greater effort, while his own strength at the end of the traces grew less.
It had begun to storm when Pierre stopped to build a fire at noon.

The snow fell straight down in a white deluge so thick that it hid the tree trunks fifty yards away.

Pierre laughed when Joan shivered and snuggled close up to him with the baby in her arms.

He waited only an hour, and then fastened Kazan in the traces again, and buckled the straps once more about his own waist.