Mr. Benson struck the washout a little way above us. He was breathing hard, as if he’d been running.
He started talking as soon as he was within hearing distance. “It scared me when I first saw them,” he said.
I didn’t know what they were. They looked like white ghosts. I’d never seen anything like it.”
A hunter grabbed Mr. Benson by the shoulder, shaking him. “Get ahold of yourself, man,” he said. “What are you talking about?
Mr. Benson took a deep breath to control himself, and started again in a much calmer voice.
“Those two hounds,” he said. “I found them. They’re frozen solid.
They’re nothing but white ice from the tips of their noses to the ends of their tails.”
Hearing Mr. Benson’s words, I screamed and ran to my father.
Everything started whirling around and around. I felt light as a feather. My knees buckled. I knew no more.
Regaining consciousness, I opened my eyes and could dimly see the blurry images of the men around me.
A hand was shaking me. I could hear my father’s voice but I couldn’t understand his words.
Little by little the blackness faded away. My throat was dry and I was terribly thirsty.
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