Noon
They were up and away early , with Nome drawing rapidly nearer . They had skirted an ocean , foot by foot ; Bering Sea lay behind them , now , and its northern shore swung westward to their goal . For two months they had lived in silent animosity , feeding on bitter food while their elbows rubbed . Noon found them floundering through one of those unheralded storms which make coast travel so hazardous . The morning had turned off gray , the sky was of a leaden hue which blended perfectly with the snow underfoot , there was no horizon , it was impossible to see more than a few yards in any direction . The trail soon became obliterated and their eyes began to play tricks . For all they could distinguish , they might have been suspended in space ; they seemed to be treading the measures of an endless dance in the center of a whirling cloud .