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What was that? Oh,[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,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]! How they hated the work and the trail,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]! They were off! Sled after sled churned slowly away into the silence. They were gone. They had passed out of his life,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], till the young man's voice brought him back.
“Is it will with you?" he asked.
And the old man answered, "It is well."
"There be wood beside you,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]," the younger man continued, "and the fire burns bright. The morning is gray, 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,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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."