CHAPTER XLIX

Stephen Parcot in the white nullity of Arctic realms where man had not been and where the only evils were the flaws of wind and weather, of ice and icy water, or barren land, had learned to hold nature blameless for her cruelties. It had not been easy at first to deny the vicious wrath in the blizzards that cabined him in a creaking ship or a snow-smothered igloo for weeks. It had not been easy to watch the ice-packs ravening, leaping, and wolfing for their prey and to deny them malice and hunger. But he knew that …