It was strange his legs should be like that.
They had never felt like that before.
And so, crawling, staggering upright, crawling again, and lying for minutes at a time with his face in his arms that he might breathe when he was well-nigh overwhelmed and suffocated, Andy kept on.
He could recall little of the last hours on the ice.

It was a confused sensation of rising and falling, staggering and crawling until he collided with an obstruction, and recognizing it as the jetty at the Post, his brain roused to a degree of consciousness, and his heart leaped with joy.
With much fumbling he succeeded in donning his snow-shoes, which were slung upon his back, for the twenty yards that lay between the ice and the buildings was covered with deep drift.

Once he stepped upon a dog that lay huddled and sleeping under the drift.

It sprang out with a snarl and snapped at his legs.

A hundred of the savage creatures were lying about in the snow.
Day comes late in Labrador.