Part 48 (2/2)

Yes, he ought, he knew, to thrust the unburned embers together and put on more wood, so as to make a cheerful blaze; but he had not the energy to stir. He wanted another rug over him; but to get it he would have had to crawl to the sledge, and he was too much numbed to move.

Besides, he shuddered at the idea of casting a bright light upon his surroundings, for he felt that it would only reveal the features of his poor comrades hardened into death.

And so it was that he lay for long enough in the darkness, till the numb sensation began to give way to acute pain, which made him moan with anguish and mentally ask what he had done that he should have been chosen to remain there and go through all that horror and despair again.

The natural self is stronger than the educated man in times of crisis.

A despairing wretch tells himself that all is over, and plunges into a river or pool to end his weary life; but the next moment the nature within him begins to struggle hard to preserve the life the trained being has tried to throw away.

It was so here. Dallas made a quick movement at last, turned over, and picked up a half-burned, still smouldering piece of pine, painfully raked others together with it, and threw it on the top, glad to cower over the warm embers, for the heat thrown out was pleasant.

As he sat there after raking the ashes more together, and getting closer, it was to feel the warmth strike up into his chilled limbs, and fill the rug he had drawn round his shoulders with a gentle glow.

Soon after, the collected embers began to burn, and a faint tongue of flame flickered, danced, went out, and flickered up again, illuminating the darkness sufficiently to let him make out that the banked up snow had largely melted, and that Tregelly had crawled away from where he had lain, and come over to his, Dallas's, side, apparently to place his heavy bulk as a shelter to keep off the bitter wind from his young companion.

There was something else, too, which he did not recognise as having seen before he lay down--something dark where the bank of snow had been, which had wonderfully melted away in the fierce glow of the fire; for that sheltering bank had been so big before.

What did it matter to one who was suffering now the agonising pangs of hunger to augment those of cold?

But the sight of the big motionless figure dimly seen by the bluish flickering light appealed strongly to the sufferer, and something like a sob rose to his throat as he thought of Tregelly's brave, patient ways, and the honest truth of his nature.

These feelings were sufficient to urge him forward from where he crouched, to go and lean over the rec.u.mbent figure and lay a hand upon the big clenched fist drawn across the breast of the dead.

It was a hand of ice, and with a piteous sigh Dallas drew back and crept to where Abel lay rolled in his rugs. Just then the dancing flame died out, and it was in the pitchy darkness that Dallas felt for his cousin's face.

The next moment he uttered a cry, and there was a quick rustling sound as of something leaping to its feet. Then the dog's cold nose touched his cheek, and there was a low whine of satisfaction, followed by a panting and scuffling as the dog transferred his attentions to Abel.

”And we're both left alive,” half groaned Dallas; but the dog uttered a joyous bark, and he sprang painfully to his feet, for a familiar gruff voice growled:

”Now, then, what's the matter with you, my son?” And then: ”Fire out?

How gashly dark!”

”Bob!” faltered Dallas.

”You, Master Dallas? Wait a bit, my son, and I'll get the fire going.

How's Mr Wray?”

There was a weary groan, and Abel said dreamily: ”Don't--don't wake me.

How cold! How cold!”

Tregelly sighed, but said nothing for the moment, exerting himself the while in trying to fan the flickering flame into a stronger glow, and with such success that the horrible feeling of unreality began to pa.s.s away, with its accompanying confusion, and Dallas began to realise the truth.

”I--I thought you were lying there dead,” he said at last.

”Oh, no, my son; I'm 'live enough,” said Tregelly, who still bent over the fire; ”but I never thought to open my eyes again. Shall I melt some snow over the fire? There is a sc.r.a.p or two more to eat, and when it's light we might p'r'aps shoot something. But I say, we must have slept for an awful long time, for we made a tremendous fire, and the snow's melted all about wonderful.”

<script>