'Let us go on,' says the man. But the woman coughs and
falls in the snow. It is the dry cough where the frost has bitten
the lungs. For a long time she coughs, then like a woman crawling
out of her grave she crawls to her feet. The tears are ice upon
her cheeks, and her breath makes a noise as it comes and goes, and
she says, 'Let us go on.'
"We go on. And we walk in dreams through the silence. And every
time we walk is a dream and we are without pain; and every time we
fall down is an awakening, and we see the snow and the mountains
and the fresh trail of the man who is before us, and we know all
our pain again. We come to where we can see a long way over the
snow, and that for which they look is before them. A mile away
there are black spots upon the snow. The black spots move. My
eyes are dim, and I must stiffen my soul to see. And I see one man
with dogs and a sled. The baby wolves see, too. They can no
longer talk, but they whisper, 'On, on. Let us hurry!'
"And they fall down, but they go on. The man who is before us, his
blanket harness breaks often, and he must stop and mend it.
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