They went to the store and selected their provisions with care, taking no flour or canned goods, but tallow and fat bacon, because this food is least bulky and affords most nourishment. For the same reason, instead of the usual allowance for a husky of two raw white fish a day, they took lumps of grease frozen solid. Of the gold they took mostly dust, because it packed closer than nuggets. This they divided into equal shares and poured into moose-hide sacks, which they lashed to the bottom of their sleds, with their outfit above.
They clothed themselves warmly for the journey, for already there were forty degrees of frost, and this was but November. They put on three flannel shirts apiece and one of duffel, and over them a beaded shirt of leather. They swathed their feet in duffel, covering them with high moccasins, and encased their legs in several wrappings of duffel leggins. Their caps were of fur, the hair of which reached down over their foreheads, ears, and necks, giving them protection. Over all they flung capotes, which extended to their knees and were caught in at the waist with a scarlet sash.
Having fed the huskies, Granger returned to the shack, to run through his belongings and destroy whatever he did not wish to be found. He turned to Spurling, saying, "You'd better lie down now and get a little rest."
Spurling blinked at him, and swallowed once or twice, hesitating. Then he said, "It's a pleasant meeting that they'll have, with two of us absent."
Granger was sorting out old letters, dated years back--things which brought memories. He did not pay any attention; perhaps he had not heard.
"It's a pleasant meeting that they'll have, I say, with two of us absent," Spurling repeated.
"Why, the meeting you promised them on Christmas Eve--the one you were so pressing about."
Granger raised up his head and looked at him. "Don't you be so certain of that," he said; "we may not be absent--we may be caught by Eyelids and brought back."
Granger went on sorting out his papers, burning them or putting them aside. Some were from his mother; one was from his father, faded with age; and some were from girls whose very names had passed from his remembrance. Presently he stopped, and turning round again, with a different look in his eyes, handed a page to his companion, saying, "Read that."