what seemed to him

pictured the boys finding his body next day. Suddenly he found himself with them, coming
along the trail and looking for himself. And, still with them, he came around a turn in the
trail and found himself lying in the snow. He did not belong with himself any more, for even
then he was out of himself, standing with the boys and looking at himself in the snow. It
certainly was cold, was his thought. When he got back to the States he could tell the folks
what real cold was He drifted on from this to a vision of the old-timer on Sulphur Creek He
could see him quite clearly, warm and comfortable, and smoking a pipe.
"You were right, old hoss; you were right," the man mumbled to the old-timer of Sulphur
Creek.
Then the man drowsed off into what seemed to him the most comfortable and satisfying sleep
he had ever known. The dog sat facing him and waiting. The brief day drew to a close in a
long, slow twilight. There were no signs of a fire to be made, and, besides, never in the
dog's experience had it known a man to sit like that in the snow and make no fire. As the
twilight drew on, its eager yearning for the fire mastered it, and with a great lifting and
shifting of forefeet, it whined softly, then flattened its ears down in anticipation of
being chidden by the man. But the man remained silent. Later, the dog whined loudly. And
still later it crept close to the man and caught the scent of death. This made the animal
bristle and back away. A little longer it delayed, howling under the stars that leaped and
danced and shone brightly in the cold sky. Then it turned and trotted up the trail in the
direction of the camp it knew, where were the other food-providers and fire-providers.