The cold was gaining on him slowly, surely.

Why had he on such heavy gloves, which made him fumble so clumsily.

He looked at his bare cut hands, and realized that their grip was leaving them.

He felt that he was in measurable distance of losing his hold.
Suddenly a remembrance flashed across him of the sinister face of the water as it had first looked up at him through the trees.

Now he understood.