Once they were gone a stone's throw from the sled there was no turning back, and although the wind was behind them progress was difficult, for they came upon chasms which they had to avoid; they crossed slippery slopes, where the storm had bared the hard crust and which their feet refused to grip. In such places they had to creep on hands and knees, calling to one another for guidance. They were numbed, blinded, choked by the rage of the blizzard; their faces grew stiff, and their lungs froze. At times they fell, and were skidded along ahead of the blasts. This forced them to crawl back again, for they dared not lose their course. At one place they followed a hog-back, where the rocks came to a sharp ridge like the summit of a roof, this they bestrode, inching along a foot at a time, wearing through the palms of their mittens and chafing their garments. No cloth could withstand the roughened surfaces, and in time the bare flesh of their hands became exposed, but there was little sensation, and no time for rest or means of relief. Soon they began to leave blood stains behind them. All four men were old in the ways of the North, and, knowing their present extremity, they steeled themselves to suffering, but their tortures were intense, not the least of which was thirst. Exhaustion comes quickly under such conditions. Much has been written concerning the red man's physical powers of endurance, but as a rule no Indian is the equal of his white brother, due as much perhaps to lack of mental force as to generations of insufficient clothing and inanition, so it was not surprising that as the long afternoon dragged to a close the Aleut guide began to weaken. He paused with more frequency, and it required more effort to start him; he fell oftener and rose with more difficulty, but the others were dependent upon his knowledge of the trail, and could not take the lead. Darkness found them staggering on, supporting him wherever possible. At length he became unable to guide them farther, and Balt, who had once made the trip, took his place, while the others dragged the poor creature along at the cost of their precious strength. At one time he begged them to leave him, and both Balt and "Fingerless" Fraser agreed, but Emerson would have none of it. "He'll die, anyhow," argued the fisherman. "He's as good as dead now," supplemented Fraser, "and we may be ten miles from timber."