As prisoners in Bram's cabin, guarded by the wolves and attacked by the Eskimos, they still had shelter, food, clothing--a chance to live, at least the chance to fight.

And now-- He put a hand to his bare head and faced the direction of the storm.
With the dying away of the wind snow had begun to fall, and with this snow he knew there would come a rising temperature.

It was probably twenty degrees below zero, and unless the wind went down completely his ears would freeze in an hour or two.

Then he thought of the thick German socks he wore.

One of them would do for a cap.