As Fraser disappeared, the young man ran forward to slip the harness from
his animals, but found it frozen into their fur, the knots and buckles
transformed into unmanageable lumps of ice, so he wrenched the camp axe
from the sled and cut the thongs, then hacked loose the stiff sled-
lashings, seized the sodden sleeping-bags, and made for the house. A
traveller's first concern is for his dogs, then for his bedding.

Before he could reach the cabin the door opened and Fraser appeared, a
strange, dazed look on his face. He was followed by a large man of coarse
and sullen countenance, who paused on the threshold.

"Don't bother with the rest of the stuff," Emerson chattered.

"It's no use," Fraser replied; "we can't go in."

The former paused, forgetting the cold in his amazement.

"What's wrong? Somebody sick?"

"I don't know what's the matter. This man just says 'nix,' that's all."

The fellow, evidently a watchman, nodded his head, and growled, "Yaas! Ay
got no room."

"But you don't understand," said Emerson. "We're wet. We broke through the
ice. Never mind the room, we'll get along somehow." He advanced with the
tight-rolled sleeping-bags under his arm, but the man stood immovable,
blocking the entrance.