The third time that he halted, in a drift of snow, he returned to Joan's side again, and whined to awaken her.

Then he tugged again at the end of his traces, and foot by foot he dragged the sledge through the drift.

Beyond the drift there was a stretch of clear ice, and here Kazan rested.

During a lull in the wind the scent came to him stronger than before.
At the end of the clear ice was a narrow break in the shore, where a creek ran into the main stream.

If Joan had been conscious she would have urged him straight ahead.