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Snow started for the door, explaining: "I'm sure I heard a scrunching." She threw it open and the yellow light fell upon a gaunt figure leaning against the entrance of the snow tunnel. The man was covered with frost and icicles where his breath had frozen on his cap and upturned collar, while it was obvious from his snow-caked knees and elbows that he had fallen often.
But before it could carry anything but a fragmentary message, life was gone again, and the operator turned to the snow-caked window, with its dreary exterior of whirling snow that seemed to come ever faster. "Things are going to get bad in this country if this keeps up," came at last. "There ain't any too great a stock of food." "How about hay for the cattle?" "All right. I guess.
"I'm comin' after Doctor Joe!" gasped Peter, as half frozen he drew off his snow-caked netsek. "Me rub your nose, Peter. She's froze, and your cheeks too," broke in Andy, vigorously rubbing Peter's whitened nose and cheeks. Peter was silent perforce while Andy manipulated the frosted parts until circulation and colour were restored. "Come to the fire now and warm up," directed Andy.
Railroad officials gave him cigars, and slapped him on his snow-caked shoulders. He cussed them out of the way. The telephone at Northport clanged and sang with calls from President Barstow; but Martin only waved a hand in answer as he ground through with the rotary. "Tell him to send me tilegrams!" he blustered. "Don't he know I'm busy?" Twelve hours more. The snow ceased. The wind died.
She pulled out a rag of fur from under her snow-caked sweater; and as the stale reek of the Skunk's Misery wolf dope rose from the thing, I knew the smell in the room had been no fancy, and how Dudley Wilbraham had died. I wheeled and saw Macartney's face, the face of a man who took me for a fool whose nose would tell him nothing. "D'ye mean that was all you found?" I got out. "No!
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