noon
`` I 've tried them all , '' said Johanson , `` and I am not afraid of a little snow . Lend me your stick , and I 'm off . '' Off he was , but not to return through the long morning . Towards noon , a party who had been out with a snow-plough and a sledge came back , bearing two bodies carefully covered . The poet was still and white . He had been found lying under a rock , in a tiny natural cave . On a ledge near him , in some lightly-sifted snow , he had traced with his finger : -- `` I must be ill , I 've such a chill .