But Kazan turned into the break, and for ten minutes he struggled through the snow without a rest, whining more and more frequently, until at last the whine broke into a joyous bark.
Ahead of him, close to the creek, was a small cabin.

Smoke was rising out of the chimney.

It was the scent of smoke that had come to him in the wind.

A hard level slope reached to the cabin door, and with the last strength that was in him Kazan dragged his burden up that.

Then he settled himself back beside Joan, lifted his shaggy head to the dark sky and howled.
A moment later the door opened.