Light up a fire
The day started with hazy weather, very cold. He climbed from the main road in Alaska's Yukon River to the high ground beside the road, where a trail extended eastward through dense juniper forests. There was a steep slope in this highland. After he climbed to the top of the slope, he stopped to take a breath and looked at his watch to hide his breathlessness.
The day started with hazy weather, very cold. He climbed from the main road in Alaska's Yukon River to the high ground beside the road, where a trail extended eastward through dense juniper forests. There was a steep slope in this highland. After he climbed to the top of the slope, he stopped to take a breath and looked at his watch to hide his breathlessness.
It’s nine o’clock. There was no sun, and there was no sign of it. In fact, there was not even a cloud in the sky. Speaking of which, it was a clear day, but because the sun was not shining, it felt like everything was covered with a layer of something, making the day gloomy. He didn't feel bothered at all. He was used to days without the sun. The sun has not risen for several days, and he also understands that in a few more days, he may be able to see the lovely fireball in the south make a quick appearance.
He turned back and glanced at the way he had just come. The mile-wide river is now hidden under three feet of ice. There is still thick snow on the ice. The entire river is white, and some ice blocks have blocked it, causing slight fluctuations in the river surface. From south to north, everything as far as the eye can see is white. I saw a thin black line hovering on the island covered with cypress trees in the south. This black line continued to wind, extending to the cypress island in the north, and then disappeared behind another cypress island. The black line is a road - the Yukon River Main Road, which leads five hundred miles south to the Chilkoot Pass, Dia District, and Salt Lake District. Seventy miles to the north leads to the Dawson District, another thousand miles to the north to Nuledo, and finally another fifteen hundred miles to the city of St. Michael on the Bering Sea.
However, having said that, all of this - the mysterious and long black road, the sun that refused to show its face, the cold weather, and the weird atmosphere contained in it all - to him , are not enough to pose any threat. It wasn't because he was accustomed to it; it was his first time in this place, a "Chicago", this was his first winter here. The trouble was that he was an unimaginative man.
He reacts quickly and pays attention to things around him, but he only pays attention to the surface and does not care about the meaning of things. Other people may feel it's minus 80 degrees Fahrenheit when it's minus 50 degrees Fahrenheit; but for him, it just feels cold and uncomfortable, that's all. He will not think about himself as a creature subject to temperature, or think about his own fragility and the common fragility of all mankind, and can only survive in a limited moderate temperature; similarly, he will not think about the so-called Immortality, humankind's place in the universe and other issues. Fifty degrees below zero means it's very cold, so you need to wear mittens, earmuffs, warm moccasins, and thick socks to keep warm. Fifty degrees below zero means fifty degrees below zero to him. Apart from that, he won't think about anything else.
When he turned around and continued walking forwardAt that time, I spit out a mouthful of phlegm randomly. The crisp crackling sound startled him. He spat again. Once again, before it even hit the snow, the phlegm made a popping sound in the air. He knew that when the temperature was minus fifty degrees, the phlegm would make a cracking sound on the snow, but this time the sound was heard while it was still in the air, which showed that it was already more than minus fifty degrees. How cold is it? He didn't know, but that didn't matter. He was ready to proceed to the left branch of the Henderson River.
The boys were already there, having crossed the tributary from the Indian Creek area. And he took a long way around and looked around - to see if wood could be mined in the Yukon islands in the spring. He would arrive at the camp around six o'clock, probably a little after dark. There the other boys would light the fire and prepare a hot dinner. As for lunch, he pressed his hand against a bulging package under his jacket. The package was wrapped in a handkerchief and held tightly against the skin under the shirt. This was the only way to keep the food from freezing. He smiled pleasantly at the thought of the coarse bread. Each slice of bread has been cut open, soaked in ham fat, and sandwiched with a thick piece of fried ham.
He entered the dense juniper forest. The path was very dark, and more than a foot of snow fell on the traces of the last sled. He was glad that he didn't bring a sled, it was much easier to walk.
In fact, except for the lunch wrapped in a handkerchief, he had no equipment. He was surprised that it was so cold. He touched his numb nose and cheekbones with his gloved hands and felt that the weather was really cold. He had a lot of beard, but it couldn't protect his cheeks and nose from freezing.
Next to his heels, there was a large Malamute dog following quickly. In fact, it should be considered a wolfdog. With its gray fur, there is no obvious difference between it and its wild wolf brothers. This guy also described being frustrated by the cold. It also knows that there is not much time to rush, and its intuition is more accurate than human judgment. In fact, it was already more than minus 50 degrees, it should be colder than minus 60 degrees, or even colder than minus 70 degrees. It should be minus seventy-five degrees. Since the freezing point is thirty-two degrees, it works out to be one hundred and seven degrees below freezing.
This dog doesn’t know anything about thermometers. Perhaps in its mind, it does not have any clear concept of cold conditions like humans. But it has intuition. It can have vague but intense power. This power controlled it, making it lurk between the man's heels. It earnestly asked the man to do something, as if he wanted him to go into the camp, or find a place to take shelter, or light a fire or something. This dog already knows fire, and he longs for a fire, or to dig a hole in the snow and curl up to keep warm and drive away the cold. The moisture from its breath has frozen, forming a fine layer of frost on its fur. In particular, its cheekbones, muzzle, and eyelids were all turned white by the crystals of its breath.
This person’s red colorThe mustache is also covered with frost, but it is a little more solid. It had gradually turned to ice, growing more and more with the warm, moist air he breathed out. In addition, he chewed tobacco, and the ice on his mouth and nose stuck to his lips so tightly that he couldn't clear his chin when he spit out the tobacco juice. So that later on, his crystallized beard became mottled with amber residue, and became longer and longer, hanging on his chin. If he fell, the ice would shatter into pieces like glass. But he didn't mind the addition to his beard. Everyone who chews tobacco in this cold place will suffer from this. Besides, he had already experienced going out in suddenly cold weather twice in the past.
He knew that those two times were not as cold as this time, but judging from the feeling at sixty miles away, he thought that those two times were probably about minus 50 degrees and minus 55 degrees.
He advanced a few miles, walking at the same speed in the stretching woods. Continuing through a wide, flat and dark wasteland, we walked down the river bank to the bed of a frozen creek. This was the Hudson River, and he knew he was still ten kilometers away from the fork of the tributary. He looked at his watch. It was ten o'clock. It takes about an hour to walk four miles. Based on this calculation, he estimated that he would reach the fork at half past twelve. He decided to have lunch there to celebrate.
The dog trotted up to his heels again, tail hanging listlessly, while he paced along the creek bed. Many furrows made by the plows of the sled can still be seen, but more than ten inches of snow were piled on the tracks of the skateboard. For a month, no one has passed through this creek bed. He moved on steadily. He didn't think too much about anything. He had nothing to think about except that he had to have lunch at the fork of the tributary and arrive at the camp to meet the boys at six o'clock. There was no one to talk to, and even if there was someone, the corners of his mouth and nose were frozen into ice, making it impossible to talk, so he could only continue to chew tobacco monotonously, and his amber beard grew longer and longer.
Occasionally, his monotonous mind would repeatedly think that it was too cold. He had never been so cold.
As he walked, he wiped his cheekbones and nose with the back of his gloved hand. Perform this action mechanically, changing hands occasionally. However, even though he kept wiping, his cheeks became numb as soon as he stopped, and his nose became numb as soon as he stopped. He thought that his cheeks must be frosty, but in fact, he already knew it. He suddenly regretted not designing a nose mask that could be worn in the suddenly cold weather and could also cover his cheeks for protection. Then again, it doesn't matter much. What are frosty cheeks? It's just a little painful, nothing serious.
Although this man’s mind is empty, he still thinks a lot. He is very observant and always pays attention to the changes in the stream; where are the twists and turns, where are the piles of wood carried by the water. At the same time, he also paid careful attention to where he landed. Once when he reached a turning point, he suddenly jumped away, like a frightened horse, pulling away from where he was about to step.After taking a few steps back, I turned back and walked along the main road.
He knew that this stream was frozen to the bottom—in this Arctic winter, no stream could still keep flowing—but he also understood that there would be ice on the mountainside. There are springs that flow along the underside of the snow and out onto the frozen surface of the stream. He knew that the coldest weather could not freeze those springs, so he knew the dangers involved. Those are traps. A pool hidden under the snow might be three inches deep, or three feet deep. Sometimes there are ice flakes half an inch thick covering it, sometimes it is snow and sometimes it is a layer of ice and a layer of water, so if someone steps on it, it will break through several layers in a row, and sometimes it will sink in and get wet. and waist.
That's why he jumped away in such panic. He could feel the elasticity of the soles of his feet and heard the cracking sound of the ice covered by snow below. And getting your feet wet in these temperatures is troublesome and dangerous. At least it would cause a delay, for then he would have to stop and light a fire to protect his feet while he dried his socks and moccasins. He stood and studied the creek bed and banks, judging that the water came from the right. He thought for a moment, wiped his nose and cheeks, and walked along the edge to the left bank, approaching the camp step by step with extreme caution. When the danger was over, he resumed chewing tobacco and continued along the river bank at a pace of four miles an hour.
In the next two hours, he encountered several similar traps. Snow covering pools often has a slumped or sugar-crystalline appearance, indicating a dangerous area. Once, however, he barked at the last moment; and another time, in order to predict danger, he asked the dog to go ahead. The dog did not want to do this and stayed behind until the man pushed it forward and it scurried across the white, unbroken surface of the river bed.
In an instant, the river bed was trampled, and it struggled to climb to the edge and found a stronger foothold. Its front legs and feet were wet, and the water almost immediately turned to ice. It quickly and diligently licked the ice off its legs with its tongue, then sat down in the snow and began to bite out the ice between its toes. It's an intuitive move. Having ice on your feet is painful.
It does not understand this, it just obeys the mysterious urges emerging from the depths of its nature. But this man understood. He had already made a judgment when he saw this situation. He took off the glove on his right hand and helped the dog to take out the ice chips. To his surprise, his fingers had been exposed to the air for less than a minute. It became numb. It's really too cold. He quickly put on his gloves and hit the hand hard on his chest.
It is twelve o'clock, which is the brightest time of the day, but it is winter, and the sun is far away in the south, unable to illuminate the earth very clearly. The ridges of the earth's surface blocked the space between the sun and the Hudson River. The man was walking on the river bed, and at noon, his shadow was not even reflected under the cloudless sky. He reached the fork of the river exactly at half-past twelve. He was happy that he controlled his speed well. If he maintains this speed, he will definitely be able to meet the boys before six o'clockmeet. He unbuttoned his jacket and shirt and took out his lunch bag. This action only took more than ten seconds. In such a short period of time, my fingers became numb from the cold. He didn't put on any more gloves, but slapped his hands on his legs a dozen times. Then he sat on a crossbar covered with snow and began to eat.
The stinging pain caused by slapping his fingers on his leg disappeared immediately, which surprised him deeply. He didn't have time to bite the bread, so he quickly tapped his fingers and put his glove back on, exposing his other hand to eat his lunch. He wanted to bite it, but the ice at the corner of his mouth prevented him from moving.
He forgot to light a fire to melt the ice first. He felt funny at his omission. When he laughed, he found that the exposed fingers were numb again. At the same time, he noticed that the tingling feeling in his toes when he sat down just now had also disappeared. He didn't know whether it was because of warmth or numbness.
He moved his feet in his moccasin boots to make sure they were numb from the cold.
He was really frightened. He quickly put on his gloves and stood up. Step your feet up and down until your feet start to tingle again. "It's really cold," he thought. Someone from Sulfur Creek had mentioned that it sometimes got that cold in this area. He even laughed at others at that time! It can be seen that one cannot be too certain about things. There is no doubt that this is called "really cold". He strode up and down, stamped his feet and clapped his hands, and didn't stop until he was really warm.
Then he took out the matches and started to light the fire. Earlier, the spring had flowed through, and there were many plants growing in the snow. He found firewood from these bushes. Carefully starting from a small fire, he soon had a blazing fire. With this fire, he could finally melt the ice on his face and eat his thick bread. In this brief moment, coldness was overcome by wisdom! The dog lay contentedly beside the fire, stretching just enough to stay warm without getting burned.
After the man finished eating, he filled his pipe and started a pleasant after-dinner cigarette session. Then he pulled up his mittens, wrapped the earmuffs on his hat tightly around his ears, and headed along the left branch of the river bed. The dog was quite disappointed and longed to return to the fire. This person doesn’t know cold. Perhaps his ancestors have always ignored the seriousness of cold, especially this kind of real severe cold, which is 107 degrees below freezing! But the dog knows it, its ancestors knew it, and it has passed this knowledge down. It also knew that there was little benefit in continuing in this terrible cold situation. At this time, you should lie warm and comfortable in a snow cave, waiting for a layer of clouds to cover the cold sky.
On the other hand, the man and the dog did not have a very close relationship. It was just like a slave to his work, and the most intimate contact it had ever received was the whipping of the whip and the rapid scolding. So the dog had no intention of conveying this realization to him. It is not very concerned about the interests of that person, but is eager to return to the fire for its own benefit. But the man whistled and made a sound of whipping to call it, and it staggered up to his heels and followed..
The man started chewing tobacco again, and the amber beard appeared again. At the same time, the moisture from his breath quickly turned into white frost, which fell on his beard, eyebrows, and eyelids. The left tributary of the Hudson River didn't seem to have that many springs, and I didn't see any signs after walking for half an hour. Then, here it comes! In a place without warning, the soft, uncracked snow seemed to mark the solid ice beneath. That's where he broke the ice! It wasn't deep, it probably wetted half of my calf. He struggled to jump away and ran to the nearby, stronger ice.
He was angry and cursed his luck loudly. He had hoped to reach the camp before six o'clock to join the boys, but this was delayed by at least an hour because he had to start a fire to dry the equipment on his feet. He knew full well that in such low temperatures this was an urgent necessity. So he turned around and climbed up to the shore. There were some small juniper bushes on the top and some tangled shrubs below. There were dry fire-making materials deposited after the high tide. Mostly they are small branches and small tree trunks. However, there are also mostly branches from trees in season, and some good hay left over from last year. He first placed some large tree trunks on the snow. Lay the foundation first to prevent the newly raised fire from being extinguished by the melting snow. Then he took out a small piece of birch bark from his pocket, struck a match, and lit a small fire. This will catch fire faster than paper. Place the fire starter on the newly erected base and add small bunches of hay and twigs to it.
His movements were careful and slow, knowing that his situation was dangerous. Gradually, after the fire becomes stronger, larger branches are added. Crouching in the snow, he pulled tangled branches from the bushes and threw them directly into the fire. He knew not to fail. At seventy-five degrees below zero, if a person's legs are wet, he must succeed in making fire for the first time. If the legs were dry and the fire was not raised, he could run half a mile along the main road to restore circulation. But when it's minus 75 degrees, running can't restore blood circulation to a wet, cold foot. No matter how fast he ran, his wet legs would only get colder and colder.
He knew all this, the elders of Sulfur Creek had told him last winter, and now he was grateful for the advice. He no longer had any feeling in his legs. In order to start a fire just now, I had to take off my gloves, and my fingers quickly became numb. The pace of one hour and four miles makes the heart regularly send blood to the limbs and every peripheral nerve of the body. But once he stopped, the pulse slowed down.
The severe cold hit this empty ground. He stood there, helpless and had to endure the cold wind. All the blood in his body coagulated. The blood is alive, like the dog, and like the dog, it wants to hide from the terrible cold and cover itself.
Originally, if he kept walking at the rate of four miles an hour, the blood would be even and transported to his limbs unconsciously; but now the blood has retreated and sunk deep into his body. Peripheral nerves are the first to feelThis, and his wet legs were freezing faster and faster, and his fingers were becoming numb, but fortunately they were not frozen yet. His nose and cheeks had already become stiff, and the skin all over his body was cold, as if it had lost blood.
Then again, he is safe. Toes, noses, and cheeks were only covered with frost, but the fire was already burning brightly. Now he could throw in a branch as thick as his finger, and later he could throw in a branch as thick as his wrist. Then you can take off the wet shoes and socks. While waiting for the shoes and socks to dry, you can also put your feet by the fire to keep warm. Of course, you must wipe your feet with snow first. The fire rose successfully, which also meant that he was safe. He remembered the advice of those who had come from Sulfur Creek, and smiled. The man said very seriously that when it was fifty degrees below zero, it was best not to walk alone in Coronti. He said it categorically, like a law. But, he is here now, alone. Of course something unexpected happened, but it is enough to ensure his own safety.
He thought that some of those people who came here were really too effeminate. The most important thing for a person is to keep calm, and he is not bad. A man is the one who can go out on his own. However, the speed at which his nose and cheeks hardened was really scary. He didn't even expect that his fingers would lose feeling in such a short period of time, because when he wanted to grab the branch, it was difficult to hold his fingers together. It seemed that those fingers had left his body and did not obey his instructions. When he touches a branch, he must use his eyes to judge whether he has grasped it tightly or not.
There is fire here, there is a crackling sound, and all of that is nothing. The beating sparks ensure the safety of life. He began to unbutton his moccasins, which were already covered with ice.
The thick German wool socks are like two iron scabbards that reach halfway to the knees, and the laces of the moccasin boots are like copper bars, tangled and knotted together as if they have experienced a war. . He pulled hard for a moment with numb fingers, then, realizing how stupid this was, took out his knife instead.
But before he could cut off the shoelaces, he smashed them! It was his fault, or rather, his mistake. The fire shouldn't have been lit under the cypress tree, it should have been in the open space. However, when making a fire under a tree, it is more convenient to collect twigs of low shrubs, and you can just pull them off and throw them into the fire. The branches of the tree beneath which he lit the fire were covered with snow. Each time he pulled down a section of a branch, it caused a small shake, barely noticeable to him, but enough to cause disaster. The upper branches of this tree pour down the snow they carry, falling to the next branch, and then tipping down. This continues, extending all the branches of the entire tree. It later expanded into an avalanche and without any warning, the fire was put out!
On the place where the fire was originally burned, there was only a layer of irregular snow that had just fallen.
He was frightened, it was like hearing that he was sentenced to death! For a while, he sat there blankly, staring at the spot where the fire had been, and then slowly calmed down.
Maybe the man from Sulfur Creek was right, if he had a traveling companion, there is no danger now, my traveling companion will light the fire. OK! Now it was up to him to raise the fire again, and there was no room for failure this second time. Even if it succeeds, I'm afraid a few toes will be scrapped! His legs should be very cold now, and it will take some time for the fire to heat up!
That’s what he thought, but he didn’t just sit there and think about it. When these thoughts flashed through his mind, he had been busy: erecting a new pedestal. This time he chose an open space where no more trees would extinguish the fire. Next, he began to collect hay and twigs from the high tide sediments. He could not gather his fingers to pull the twigs, but he could hold them with his whole hand, so that he caught a lot of useless rotting grass and green moss, but This is all we can do. He moved in an orderly manner, and even the big tree trunk that would be used when the fire was strong was ready. All this time the dog sat watching him with a vague longing in his eyes, for he thought he was the maker of the fire, which was slowly appearing.
When everything was arranged, he reached into his jacket for a second piece of birch bark. He knew the bark was there. Although he could no longer feel it with his fingers, he could still hear the crisp squelching sound as he groped for it. After trying for a long time, he still couldn't grasp it. During the whole process, his only thought was that his legs were getting stiffer by the second. The thought seemed to cause him pain, but he dismissed it immediately and remained calm.
He pulled on the gloves with his teeth, stretched his arms forward and back, and slapped his hands at his sides with all his strength. He was originally sitting, but now he stood up. The dog had been sitting in the snow, just like the wolf, with its brush-like tail wrapped warmly around its front legs, and its smart ears pointed forward as if to supervise the person. As for the man, when he kept waving his arms and flapping his hands, he felt deeply jealous when he saw another animal warmly protected by its natural fur.
After a while, some ethereal, sentient signs could be felt in the flapping fingers. The weak sting gradually became stronger and turned into a sharp pain, but the man actually let out a cheer of satisfaction. He took off his right glove and took out the birch bark. The fingers exposed to the air soon became numb again. Then he took out a handful of sulfur matches. But the severe cold had taken away the vitality from his fingers. He tried hard to separate a match with his hands, but the whole match fell into the snow. He tried to pick them out of the snow, but couldn't. Those numb fingers have lost their sense of touch and cannot grasp things.
This time he tried very hard to get out of his mind the thought that his legs, nose, and cheeks were slowly dying, and focused all his energy on the match. Using vision to aid touch, when he saw that his fingers were next to the bundle of matches, he wrapped them up - meaning, he wanted to wrap them up because the matches were still on the ground. The fingers did not obey. He put on his right glove again and banged it hard on his knee. Then, with two gloved hands, he scooped up the bunch of matches and placed them on his lap, still carrying a lot of snow.But that's not much better.
After working for a long time, he got the bunch of matches to his wrist and then moved them to his mouth.
It took a lot of effort to open his mouth, and the ice at the corner of his mouth made a crackling sound. Then he put his lower jaw in, turned up his upper lip, and used his upper teeth to scrape the matches, trying to separate one. Finally, he successfully separated one piece and landed it on his lap. Still not much better, couldn't pick it up. Then he thought of a way to pick up the match with his teeth and rub it on his leg. After about twenty times, it finally caught fire. After getting the flame, he continued to hold the match to the birch bark with his teeth, but the burning sulfur ran into his nostrils and choked his lungs, causing him to cough convulsively. The match fell into the snow again and went out.
He thought that the people who came from Sulf Creek were right. It was fifty degrees below zero and he should find a traveling companion to go with him, but he quickly controlled the regret that suddenly rose up. He started beating again, but still couldn't arouse any sense. Suddenly he bit off the glove with his teeth and exposed his hands.
Then use the wrists of both hands to hold up the entire match. The muscles in his arms were not so frozen that he could not press his wrist against the match. Next he struck the match down his leg. Flames flashed out, and seventy matches were lit at once! There was no wind at this time, so it would not blow out the fire. He turned his head aside to avoid the choking smoke and held the little torch to the birch bark. Holding the matches like this, his hands began to feel. His flesh was burned, you could smell the burnt smell, and then you could feel that it was burned just below the surface. The sensation had developed into deep pain, and he continued to endure it, staggeringly bringing the fire to the birch bark. The fire did not burn smoothly because his hand was also burning, absorbing most of the fire.
Finally, he couldn't bear it anymore, and he let go of his hand hastily, and the burning match fell into the snow with a hiss. But the birch bark caught fire. He began to lay down hay and the smallest twigs. He had no choice now, because he could only use his wrist to get the fuel. Small pieces of rotten wood and green moss were tangled on the branches, and he chewed them away as much as possible with his teeth. He carefully guarded this fire, which represented a chance for survival and must not be extinguished.
The blood continued to withdraw from his limbs, which had already made him tremble and feel very scary.
There was a large piece of green moss sliding down the small fire. He wanted to push it away with his fingers, but he kept shaking, and suddenly pushed it over, removing the core of the small fire. Got scattered. Burning grass and twigs were scattered around. He wanted to push these things together again, but despite all his strength, he kept trembling all over and couldn't do it. The small branches were hopelessly scattered on the ground. Each twig puffed out a cloud of smoke and then died. The firemaker failed. He looked around with no expression on his face and saw the dog sitting opposite him across the remaining fire. It sat in the snow, trembling restlessly, gently lifting its front legs alternately, placing its weight on the legs back and forth in vague anticipation.
SeeThe dog gave him a wild thought. He remembered a story about a man trapped in a snowstorm who killed a bull and then hid in the carcass to save his life. He could also kill the dog, bury his hand in the warm corpse, and let the numbness gradually subside and regain consciousness. Then he can raise his fire again. He began to speak to the dog, calling it to him, but there was a strange message in his voice that frightened the dog inexplicably. It had never heard this man speak in this way before. There must be something wrong, something in its nature that senses the danger of this suspense. It doesn't know what the danger is.
Only in some unknown corners of its head, a subtle understanding of this person emerged.
It put its ears flat and listened quietly to the man's voice. The restless movements, raising and swinging of its front legs became more and more obvious. In short, it doesn't go to him. The man began crawling toward the dog on his hands and knees. This unusual gesture once again aroused the atmosphere of suspense, and the dog moved away uneasily.
He sat up on the snow and struggled for a while to regain his composure. Then he pulled the gloves on with his teeth and stood up. For the first time, he had to look down to make sure he was actually standing. His legs had lost all feeling, making him feel like they had no connection with the ground.
His upright posture began to drive away the dog's doubts, and then he commanded the dog to come over with a commanding crack of a whip. It walked over according to its obedient habit. When it came within easy reach, the man lost control. His arm stretched out like lightning, but he was greatly surprised. He found that he could not grasp anything with his hands, could not bend his fingers, and had no feeling at all. For a while, he forgot that his hands were frozen, and they were getting stiffer. It all happened quickly, and before the dog could get away, he had his whole arm wrapped around it. Then he sat down on the snow and hugged the dog. The dog whined and struggled hard.
However, he could only do this and sit with the dog in his arms. He knew there was no way to kill the dog, not at all. His hands were so stiff and helpless that he could neither draw out the knife to hold it nor strangle the dog. He let it go, and it struggled to escape, tail between its legs, barking all the way. It stopped forty feet away and looked at the man carefully, its ears straight up. The man looked down at his hands, wondering what had happened to them, and found them hanging limply beneath his arms. It shocked him that a person should use his eyes to find where his hand was. He began to move his arms forward and back again, letting his hands flap vigorously at his sides.
After five minutes of this, the violent movement caused his heartbeat to pump out enough blood and transport it to the outer layer of the body, and the shivering stopped. But I still can't feel my hands. All he could notice was that his hands were like weights hanging from the ends of his arms. He tried to shake this impression out of his mind, but he couldn't.
The fear of death pressed toward him vaguely. The fear was brewing quickly, and now he understood that it was no longer a matter of fingers and toes being frozen or disabled;This is a time of bad luck, a matter of life and death. This put him in great pain, and he turned and ran up the riverbed along the old and obscure main road. The dog followed closely behind him. He ran forward blindly, without any consciousness, and fell into unprecedented terror.
Slowly, as he struggled to drag across the snow, he was able to see clearly again the things in front of him - the banks of the stream, the old wood piles, the leafless aspens, and the sky. The run made him feel better and he no longer shivered. Perhaps if he kept running he could thaw his legs, and if he ran further, he could reach the boys in the camp. No doubt he would lose a few fingers and toes, and parts of his face would freeze to death, but the boys would take care of him, and once he got there they would save the rest of him. And at the same time another thought came into his mind, telling him that he would never make it to the boys' camp. It was still many miles away from here, too far; and he was already so cold that he would soon become stiff and die. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, refusing to think about it. Sometimes it would push out on its own, demanding he listen, but he would always push it back, trying hard to think of something that had arrived.
Another thing that surprised him was that he could run for so long with his legs that were so cold, but when his legs hit the ground and supported his whole body weight, he didn't feel it at all. It was as if he was just flying along the surface and had nothing to do with the ground. He had seen a winged statue of Mercurius somewhere, and he really doubted whether Mercurius's feeling of flying over the ground was the same as his.
There was one problem with the strategy of running all the way to the camp to meet the boys: he lacked that kind of stamina. He stumbled several times, then became hobbling and limping, and finally he fell. He tried to stand up again, but failed. He judged that he had to sit up and rest. He just had to walk and keep moving forward for the rest of the journey.
When he sat up and adjusted his breathing, he found that he was quite warm and comfortable. I no longer shivered, and even my chest and torso felt a little warm. However, there was no sensation when I touched my nose and cheeks. Running doesn't thaw them out. Neither can the hands or feet. Then, he thought that the frozen part of his body was getting bigger and bigger, and he wanted to push this thought down and think of other things to forget about it. He felt the pain caused by this thought, and he was afraid of this pain. The thought persisted in its existence until it produced a phantom of him frozen to death. It was too much and he took another wild run down the main road. Once he slowed down and walked, but the freezing thoughts spread again, forcing him to start running again.
At this time, the dog kept running behind his ankles. When he fell a second time, he curled his tail around his forelegs, sat down before him, and looked at him with curious eagerness and inquiry. The warmth and security of the animal irritated him, and he cursed it loudly until it calmly flattened its ears. At this time he was shaking even harderharmed. He has lost the war with the wind and frost. Wind and frost spread quietly into his body from all directions. This thought drove him to stand up again, but he fell again less than a hundred feet away, this time falling headfirst. This was his last panic.
After regaining normal breathing and self-control again, he sat up and had a pleasant thought in his heart to face death solemnly. However, he did not use the word solemn in his thoughts. His idea was that he was like a big fool, running around like a chicken with its head cut off-this was a metaphor he came up with accidentally. Well, he was going to freeze anyway, so he'd better die gracefully. This budding peace of mind begins to create drowsy desires. He thought: This would be a good idea, die in your sleep. It's like being given an anesthetic. Death by freezing is not as bad as most people imagine, there are many worse ways to die!
He pictured in his mind that the boys would find his body the next day. For a moment, he felt that he was between them, following the main road, looking for himself. Then, following everyone, they found themselves lying in a snowdrift near a corner of the main road. He no longer belongs to himself. At that time, he had separated from his body and was with the boys, looking at himself in the snowdrift. He thought: It's really too cold. When he returns to the United States, he can tell his folks what the real cold is like. His consciousness drifted from this point to another phantom, that of a person from Sulfey Creek. He could see him clearly, warm, comfortable, and smoking a pipe.
"You're right, old guy, you're right." He murmured to the visitor to Sulfur Creek.
Then he fell into a deep sleep, which seemed to be the most comfortable and satisfying sleep he had ever experienced. The dog sat and looked at him, waiting. The short day slowly faded into the long dusk. It was impossible for the fire to be started again, and in the dog's experience, he had never known anyone to sit in the snow like this and not start a fire. When the night covered the earth, the fervent desire to start a fire dominated it. It raised its front legs high and twisted, and it whined softly, and then, afraid of his scolding, it flattened its ears. But the man remained silent. Then the dog whined loudly, and a moment later it crawled closer to the man and came into contact with the smell of death. This made its hair stand on end and it retreated. After hesitating for a long time, it howled under the cold night sky, and the stars twinkled in the sky, dancing and shining. Then, it turned around, quickly walked onto the main road, and ran towards the direction of the camp it knew. There will be other people there who will give it food to eat, and there will be other fire makers.