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Updated: June 23, 2025
But I was more sensible of the cruel ruttiness of the road on which our feet slipped and our ankles twisted. Curt Dawson was one of those rough-and-tumble battlers who laugh as they fight. His companion kept up a running string of muttered curses, but both of them were strong, wolf-like huskies of tireless sinews and savage determination.
To hear them at first, a stranger might suppose that a woman was wearily weeping herself to death in the forest, because of a grief which was inconsolable. The wail of the huskies, reaching him at intervals across the expanse of water, seemed the voice of his own desolation, coming out to meet him. The whole world was empty, and he began to feel the need of friendship.
With the aurora borealis flaming coldly overhead, or the stars leaping in the frost dance, and the land numb and frozen under its pall of snow, this song of the huskies might have been the defiance of life, only it was pitched in minor key, with long-drawn wailings and half-sobs, and was more the pleading of life, the articulate travail of existence.
He realised that his hiding from Robert Pilgrim on Huskies' Island, journey to the Forbidden River, and pursuit of Spurling, had been one long series of mistakes, each one tending to make him appear more guilty of Strangeways' death.
Thus they say that when General Haig and his staff came down to review the Canadian troops and pin a carload of hardware on their men for bravery in battle, medals of one sort and another, the Canadian General lined his huskies up, and as the staff approached he cried anxiously, "Say, boys here he comes.
Jan gave a short, low bark; and in the same moment the five huskies flung themselves into their collars behind him. The sled its runners already tight frozen creaked, jerked, and slid forward just eight feet. Jan let out a low, warning growl. The team stood still without a word from its owner. "Say, does he talk?" asked a bystander.
Again with those first promises of spring in sunshine and air, there was coming also for the second time in her life the promise of approaching motherhood. But her efforts to draw Kazan back were unavailing, and in spite of her protest he wandered each day a little farther east and south at the head of his pack. Instinct impelled the four huskies to move in that direction.
The girl fell asleep to the sound of the light breeze slapping the tent and to the doleful howling of the huskies. Macdonald drove his team into the teeth of the storm. The wind came in gusts.
He hoped Foster never would find out what he had paid for these bays the team of huskies that had carried him the long trek from Nome to the Aurora mine and on through Rainy Pass had cost less. Still, under the circumstances, would not Foster himself have done the same? She was no ordinary woman; she was more than pretty, more than attractive; there was no woman like her in all the world.
"Ay, ay," cried one of the others, "you may say that, Francois. Nothin' but frost and starvation, and nobody to bury us when we're dead." "Except the Huskies," broke in another, "who would save themselves the trouble by converting us all into dans!" "Tush, man! stop your clapper," cried Francois, impatiently; "let us settle this business.
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