"Better take him to our camp over there."
Addison thought so, too, and seizing the reins and whip, started for the
shore. The old horse was so chilled that we could hardly get him to
hobble; but we did not spare the whip.
From the shore we had still fifteen or twenty rods to go, in order to
reach the camp back in the woods. Rufus's clothes were frozen as stiff
as boards; apparently he could not move. We feared that the man would
die on our hands.
We snatched off one of the side boards of his sled, laid him on it, and,
taking it up like a stretcher, started to carry him up through the woods
to the camp.
By that time his long overcoat and all the rest of his clothes were
frozen so stiff and hard that he rolled round more like a log than a
human body.
The path was rough and snowy. In our haste we stumbled, and dropped him
several times, but we rolled him on the board again, rushed on, and at
last got him inside the camp. Our morning fire had gone out. Halse
kindled it again, while Addison, Thomas and I tried to get off the
frozen overcoat and long cowhide boots.
The coat was simply a sheet of ice; we could do nothing with it.
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