But before he could cut the strings, it happened. It was his own fault or, rather, his
mistake. He should not have built the fire under the spruce tree. He should have built it in
the open. But it had been easier to pull the twigs from the brush and drop them directly on
the fire. Now the tree under which he had done this carried a weight of snow on its boughs.
No wind had blown for weeks, and each bough was fully freighted. Each time he had pulled a
twig he had communicated a slight agitation to the tree--an imperceptible agitation, so far
as he was concerned, but an agitation sufficient to bring about the disaster. High up in the
tree one bough capsized its load of snow. This fell on the boughs beneath, capsizing them.
This process continued, spreading out and involving the whole tree. It grew like an
avalanche, and it descended without warning upon the man and the fire, and the fire was
blotted out! Where it had burned was a mantle of fresh and disordered snow.
The man was shocked. It was as though he had just heard his own sentence of death. For a
moment he sat and stared at the spot where the fire had been. Then he grew very calm.
Perhaps the old-timer on Sulphur Creek was right. If he had only had a trail-mate he would
have been in no danger now. The trail-mate could have built the fire. Well, it was up to him
to build the fire over again, and this second time there must be no failure. Even if he
succeeded, he would most likely lose some toes His feet must be badly frozen by now, and
there would be some time before the second fire Was ready.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
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