This touch of cold was nothing compared with whole months of hard exposure which he had endured in the northland.

It had not the edge.

If it were not for the wind it was scarcely a threat to life.

Moreover, the singing sounded no more.

It had been hardly more than a phrase of music, and it must have been a deceptive murmur of the wind.
After all, a gale brought wilder deceptions than that.