By sheer power of their wills they were combatting the snow, forcing the work ahead, deepening the stretch of excavation that had been opened that afternoon; by iron determination they were wrenching out the last spadeful of earth possible and exacting the final ounce of man power before the snow had its way.
The strange warmth continued.

The temperature was not even down to freezing and the men, muddied and wet to the knees, dripped with perspiration, while the horses' flanks were soaked with both sweat and melted snow.

It was difficult to breathe, what with the heavy, oppressive air and what with the fall of suffocating snow, constantly growing thicker.

Horses slipped and went down, but were raised again; fresnos were mired, but freed once more; men gave out and were sent to their camp.

And the fight kept on.
But about eleven o'clock Bryant felt a cool puff of air on his cheeks, light and of brief duration.