Even as they did, his feeble throat gave out again the long, low moan.
The weather was mild now.

The prisoner was not actually frozen, but numbed and racked.

Heat, hot tea, kindly rubbing, and he revived a little.
At first they thought him dying, but in an hour recovered enough to talk.

In feeble accents and broken phrases they learned the tale: "Yest--m-m-m.

Yesterday--no; two or three days back--m-m-m-m-m--I dunno; I was a goin'-- roun' me traps--me bear traps.