The wind was in his face, lashing it until the cold became intolerable; the dry snow was loose, and had drifted over his outward trail.

Still, he was thankful that no more had fallen, and he thought that he knew the quarter he must make for.

Now that he was in the open, he could see some distance, for the snow threw up a dim light.

It stretched away before him, a sweep of glimmering gray, and the squeaking crunch it made beneath his shoes emphasized the overwhelming silence.
Skirting a bluff he did not remember, he stopped in alarm, until a taller clump of trees which he thought he knew caught his searching eyes.

If he were right, he must incline farther to the east to strike the shortest line to camp; and he set off, breathing heavily and longing to fling away his load.