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Updated: May 27, 2025

Half-an-hour passed, an hour slid by, and all the time Gulo kicked the miles behind him, with that dogged persistency that was part of his character. Nothing had passed him for quite a while, and he was all alone in the utterly still, silent forest and the snow, pad-pad-padding along like a moving, squat machine rather than a beast. At last he stopped, and, spinning round, sat up.

F. St. Mars - The Way of the Wild