He is a dead weight with all those rawhides about him." As coolly as though he were not more than a chunk of stovewood, Croisset and the Indian came through the bushes, seized him by the head and feet, carried him out into the trail and laid him lengthwise on the sledge.
"I hope you have not caught cold lying in the snow, M'seur," said Croisset, bolstering up the engineer's head and shoulders and covering him with heavy furs.

"We should have been back sooner, but it was impossible.

Hoo-la, Woonga!" he called softly to his lead-dog.

"Get up there, you wolf-hound!" As the sledge started, with Croisset running close to the leader, Howland heard the low snapping of a whip behind him and another voice urging on other dogs.

With an effort that almost dislocated his neck he twisted himself so he could look back of him.