One winter the people at a certain place on Copper river were left with nothing to eat and began dying off. About the middle of that winter all of the children and some of the adults were dead, and only about half of the former population remained. When only eight men were left they said to one another, "Let us leave. Let us walk down this side of the river." So they started off down the bank, and, after a long time, one of them died of cold. They buried a him and went on. By and by another froze to death and was also buried. This kept on until there were only four. One day three of the remainder succumbed in succession, the last at evening, leaving but one man from all that village. This man was very sickly looking, but he felt strong, and when his last companion fell, he left him lying there and went on rapidly. He thought he would drop with grief, however, at the loss of his last comrade.
As he was going on quite late in the evening he suddenly heard some one shout right ahead of him. He followed the voice, which kept on calling continually. Finally he came to a great fire and stood near it to warm himself. It was that that had been calling him.
186:a The words of the narrator, but corpses were usually burned.