There was an eager yelping, a scratching of feet, and a string of ice-rimed wolf-dogs, with hot-lolling tongues and dripping jaws, pulled up the slope and turned into the path ahead of them.

On the sled, a long and narrow box of rough-sawed spruce told the nature of the freight.

Two dog-drivers, a woman walking blindly, and a black-robed priest, made up the funeral cortege.

A few paces farther on the dogs were again put against the steep, and with whine and shout and clatter the unheeding clay was hauled on and upward to its ice-hewn hillside chamber.
"A zone-conqueror," Frona broke voice.
Corliss found his thought following hers, and answered, "These battlers of frost and fighters of hunger! I can understand how the dominant races have come down out of the north to empire.

Strong to venture, strong to endure, with infinite faith and infinite patience, is it to be wondered at ?" Frona glanced at him in eloquent silence.
"'_We smote with our swords_,'" he chanted; "'_to me it was a joy like having my bright bride by me on the couch.' 'I have marched with my bloody sword, and the raven has followed me.