The Dog, a Dog, and the Dog's Hands

The man realized that he could not kill the dog. There was no way to do it with his helpless hands. He began threshing his arms back and forth, beating the mittened hands against his sides. The running made him feel better. Maybe if he ran on his feet would thaw out. And anyway, if he ran far enough, he would reach camp and the boys without doubt. But a certain fear of death, dull and oppressive, came to him. This fear quickly became poignant as he realized that it was no longer a mere matter of freezing his fingers and toes, or of losing his hands and feet, but that it was a matter of life and death,.