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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Let's run." "Where to? We'd starve in two days, or freeze. Come on. They won't hurt us." With anxious hearts and trembling footsteps they approached the solid line of fur-clad figures which stretched along the southern outskirts of the village. As they came close they heard one word repeated over and over: "Dezra! Dezra!"
At once he decided that they must turn back to the submarine. Hardly had they taken this course, when heads seemed to be peering out at them from every ice-pile. It was when they were crossing a broad, flat pan that matters came to a crisis. Suddenly brown, fur-clad figures emerged from the piles at the edge of the pan and approached them. Their soft, rawhide boots made no sound on the ice.
The stranger's fur-clad figure cut sharply against a gleaming back of snow, and he held a gun in his hand. Though the light had almost gone, it was evident to Wyllard that he was a white man. They stood very still for several seconds gazing at each other, and then the stranger dropped the butt of his weapon and called out sharply, uttering words in a tongue that Wyllard did not recognize.
He nestled happily, fingering the axe head, the ivory studs in her girdle, the ivory clasp at her throat, the plaits of fair hair; rubbing his head against the softness of her fur-clad shoulder, with a child's full confidence in the kindness of beauty. White Fell had not uncovered her head, only knotted the pendant fur loosely behind her neck.
He was almost choked in the crossing, but when once they had emptied the water out of him he quite recovered and chattered incessantly in a curious language that no one understood. Five little fur-clad beings, one by one, were brought over by the cradle, and last of all came Karl with a little squealing pig in his arms.
"Funny you don't gamble none," Shorty said to Smoke one night in the Elkhorn. "Ain't it in your blood?" "It is," Smoke answered. "But the statistics are in my head. I like an even break for my money." All about them, in the huge bar-room, arose the click and rattle and rumble of a dozen games, at which fur-clad, moccasined men tried their luck. Smoke waved his hand to include them all.
Here again was silence and gloom, and even the children refrained from their accustomed pastimes. A tall, fur-clad figure was moving through the settlement. His feet were encased in moccasins, and thick felt leggings reached up just below his knees.
'Because the bear is standing -in life a bear only stands when it is going to fight -and still he is only a head taller than the tribesman. I tell you, the bears of the north are much larger. 'Tribesman? In her haste she had failed to note the two fur-clad Neanderthals which stalked it, spear in hand, from behind a group of rocks.
In the middle of the open space was an immense boulder around which many wild beasts had gathered. Apparently they were holding a conclave of some sort. "Near to the big rock he saw bears, so firmly and heavily built that they seemed like fur-clad blocks of stone.
His fur-clad figure cut sharply against a gleaming bank of snow, and he held a gun in his hand. Though the light had almost gone, it was evident to Wyllard that he was a white man. They stood very still for several seconds gazing at one another, and then the stranger dropped the butt of his weapon and called out sharply. Wyllard, who failed to understand him, did not move, and he spoke again.
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