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What was that? Oh,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], the men lashing the sleds and drawing tight the thongs. He listened, who would listen no more. The whip-lashes snarled and bit among the dogs. Hear them whine! How they hated the work and the trail,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]! They were off,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]! Sled after sled churned slowly away into the silence. They were gone. They had passed out of his life, and he faced the last bitter hour alone. No. The snow crunched beneath a moccasin; a man stood beside him; upon his head a hand rested gently. His son was good to do this thing. He remembered other old men whose sons had not waited after the tribe. But his son had. He wandered away into the past, till the young man's voice brought him back.
“Is it will with you?" he asked.
And the old man answered,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], "It is well."
"There be wood beside you," the younger man continued,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], "and the fire burns bright. The morning is gray,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and the cold has broken. It will snow presently. Even now is it snowing."
"Ay,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], even now is it snowing."
"The tribesmen hurry. Their bales are heavy, and their bellies flat with lack of feasting. The trail is long and they travel fast. I go now. It is well?"
"It is well. I am as a last year's leaf,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], clinging lightly to the stem. The first breath that blows, and I fall. My voice is become like an old woman's. My eyes no longer show me the way of my feet, and my feet are heavy and I am tired. It is well."