The barking of sled dogs heralded our arrival in Dawson. Our trip had been long and cold, with almost no sleep and not much to eat. Christmas had been a highlight, and we needed time to rest up from our trip.
      At this time of year, there was very little daylight, but we had managed to find our way along the trail. “After that long, cold hike it will be great to get back to our cabin,” Dave remarked.
      “And it will feel even better to get warm and have a good, hot meal,” I replied. “Let's head for the first restaurant that's open and fill our bellies.”
      An hour later, after some hot stew topped off with dried apple pie, we headed for the cabin. “Tomorrow we'll look around Dawson and catch up on the news. But for now, those bunks are going to feel awfully good,” I mused aloud.
      We would get a good rest and then do our shopping. We slept late the next morning, and found it hard to get out of bed to build up the fire in the stove. But hunger pangs finally drove us to it, and soon bacon was sizzling in the frying pan while we mixed the pancakes.
     Once these had been consumed, we turned to thoughts of baths and laundry. A barrel connected to the sheet-iron stove served for melting snow, since all the surface water had frozen. I took a two ten-gallon tin and walked out a block from the cabin, where I could scoop up clean snow.

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