Halting, he shouted with all the power of his lungs.

No whimper from Cyril answered the hail.

Nor, at his master's summons, did Lad come bounding back through the drifts.

Again and again, the Master called.
For the first time in his obedient life, Lad did not respond to the call.

And the Master knew his own voice could not carry, for a single furlong, against wind and snowfall.
"I'll go on for another half-hour," he told himself, as he sought to discern the dog's all-but obliterated footsteps through the deepening snow.