The unrest of the dogs had been increasing, and they stampeded, in a surge of sudden fear, to the near side of the fire, cringing and crawling about the legs of the men. In the scramble one of the dogs had been overturned on the edge of the fire, and it had yelped with pain and fright as the smell of its singed coat possessed the air. The commotion caused the circle of eyes to shift restlessly for a moment and even to withdraw a bit, but it settled down again as the dogs became quiet. 
"Henry, it's a blame misfortune to be out of ammunition." 
Bill had finished his pipe and was helping his companion to spread the bed of fur and blanket upon the spruce boughs which he had laid over the snow before supper. Henry grunted, and began unlacing his mocassins. 
"How many cartridges did you say you had left?" he asked. 
"Three," came the answer. "An' I wisht 'twas three hundred. Then I'd show 'em what for, damn 'em!" 
He shook his fist angrily at the gleaming eyes, and began securely to prop his moccasins before the fire.