Jack London's

TO BUILD A FIRE

Day had broken cold and gray , exceedingly cold and gray , when the man turned aside from the main Yukon trail and climbed the high earth-bank where a dim and little-travelled trail led eastward through the fat spruce timberland . It was a steep bank , and he paused for breath at the top , excusing the act to himself by looking at his watch . It was nine o 'clock . There was no sun nor hint of sun , though there was not a cloud in the sky . It was a clear day , and

yet there seemed an intangible pall over the face of things , a subtle gloom that made the day dark , and that was due to the absence of sun . This fact did not worry the man . He was used to the lack of sun . It had been days since he had seen the sun , and he knew that a few more days must pass before that cheerful orb , due south , would just peep above the sky-line and dip immediately from view . As he turned to go on , he spat speculatively . There was a sharp explosive crackle that startled him . He spat again . And again , in the air , before it could fall to the snow , the spittle crackled . He knew that at fifty below spittle crackled on the snow , but this spittle had crackled in the air . Undoubtedly it was colder than fifty below -- how much colder he did not know . But the temperature did not matter . He was bound for the old claim on the left fork of Henderson Creek , where the boys were already . They had come over across the divide from the Indian Creek country , while he had come the roundabout way to take a look at the possibilities of getting out logs in the spring from the islands in the Yukon . He would be in to camp by six o 'clock a bit after dark , it was true , but the boys would be there , a fire would be going , and a hot supper would be ready . As for lunch , he pressed his hand against the protruding bundle under his jacket . It was also under his shirt , wrapped up in a handkerchief and lying against the naked skin . It was the only way to keep the biscuits from freezing . He smiled agreeably to himself as he thought of those biscuits , each cut open and sopped in bacon grease , and each enclosing a generous slice of fried bacon He held on through the level stretch of woods for several miles crossed a wide flat of niggerheads , and dropped down a bank to the frozen bed of a small stream . This was Henderson Creek , and he knew he was ten miles from the forks . He looked at his watch . It was ten o 'clock . He was making four miles an hour , and he calculated that he would arrive at the forks at half-past twelve . He decided to celebrate that event by eating his lunch there

Empty as...