She was conscious of his return, and of something going on about the
fire, but she could not bring herself to uncover her eyes till all had
subsided again into silence. Her husband remarked that perhaps they were
wrong in rejecting a means of sustaining life of which others had
availed themselves, but she put away the suggestion so fearfully that it
was never renewed, nor acted upon by any of her family. She and her
children were now, indeed, reaching the utmost verge of life. A little
more battle with the grim enemies that had pursued them so relentlessly,
twenty-four, or at most forty-eight hours of such warfare, and all would
be ended. The infants still breathed, but were so wasted they could only
be moved by raising them bodily with the hands. It seemed as if even
their light weight would have dragged the limbs from their bodies.
Occasionally, through the day, she ascended the tree to look out. It was
an incident now, and seemed to kindle more life than when it only
required a turn of the head or a glance of the eye to tell that there
was no living thing near them. She could no longer walk on the snow, but
she had still strength enough to crawl from tree to tree to gather a few
boughs, which she threw along before her to the pit, and piled them in
to renew the fire. The eighth day was passed.
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