At last the Kid laid the pitiable thing that was once a man in the snow.But worse than his comrade's pain was the dumb anguish in the woman's face,the blended look of hopeful,hopeless query.Little was said;those of the Northland are early taught the futility of words and the inestimable value of deeds.With the temperature at sixty-five below zero,a man cannot lie many minutes in the snow and live.So the sled lashings were cut,and the sufferer,rolled in furs,laid on a couch of boughs.Before him roared a fire,built of the very wood which wrought the mishap.Behind and partially over him was stretched the primitive fly-a piece of canvas,which caught the radiating heat and threw it back and down upon hima trick which men may know who study physics at the fount.
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