His only apparent ambition, like Dave's, was to be left alone; though, as Buck was afterward to learn, each of them possessed one other and even more vital ambition.
That night Buck faced the great problem of sleeping.

The tent, illumined by a candle, glowed warmly in the midst of the white plain; and when he, as a matter of course, entered it, both Perrault and Francois bombarded him with curses and cooking utensils, till he recovered from his consternation and fled ignominiously into the outer cold.

A chill wind was blowing that nipped him sharply and bit with especial venom into his wounded shoulder.

He lay down on the snow and attempted to sleep, but the frost soon drove him shivering to his feet.

Miserable and disconsolate, he wandered about among the many tents, only to find that one place was as cold as another.