Out of the twilight shone a wan, round, lusterless ring that Rea said was the sun.

The silence and desolation were heart-numbing.
"Where are the wolves ?" asked Jones of Rea.
"Wolves can't live on snow.

They're farther south after caribou, or farther north after musk-ox." In those few still intervals Jones remained out as long as he dared, with the mercury sinking to -sixty degrees.

He turned from the wonder of the unreal, remote sun, to the marvel in the north--Aurora borealis--ever-present, ever-changing, ever-beautiful! and he gazed in rapt attention.
"Polar lights," said Rea, as if he were speaking of biscuits.

"You'll freeze.