His movements were slow. He shook constantly. When he started to collect dry moss he found he could not rise to his feet. He tried again and again, but he was only able to crawl about on hands and knees. Once he crawled near to the sick wolf. The animal dragged itself unwillingly out of his way, licking（舔） its jaws with a tongue which seemed hardly to have the strength to bend. The man noticed that the tongue was not the normal healthy red. It was yellowish brown.
After he had drunk some hot water the man found he was able to stand, and even to walk as well as a dying man might be supposed to walk. Every minute or so he was forced to rest. His steps were weak and uncertain just as the wolf's. That night he knew he was nearer to the sea by more than four miles.
Throughout the night he heard the cough of the sick wolf, and now and then the cries of reindeer. There was life all around him but it was strong life, very much alive and well, and he knew the sick wolf followed him closely in the hope that he would die first. In the morning, on opening his eyes, he saw it looking at him with an eager hungry stare. It stood crouched（蜷缩）, with tail between its legs like a poor and sorrowful dog. It trembled in the cold morning wind.
The sun rose brightly, and all morning the man walked and fell toward the ship on the shining sea. The weather was perfect. It was the brief Indian summer（初冬的好天气） of the Arctic. It might last a week. Tomorrow or next day, it might be gone.
In the afternoon the man came upon a trail. It was of another man, who did not walk, but who dragged himself on all fours. The man though it might be Bill, but he thought in a dull, uninterested way. He had no curiosity. In fact feelings had left him. He could no longer feel pain. Stomach and nerves had gone to sleep. Yet the life that was in him drove him on. He was very tired, but it refused to die. It was because it refused to die that he still ate plants and small fish, drank his hot water, and kept a tired eye on the sick wolf.