With a grip on Earl's stiff arms, I lower him onto the sled. His throbbing body hunkers down under a couple of smelly old furs. I pick up his parka that is covered with a film of ice and stack it onto the far end of the sled.

One holler at the dogs and they begin to pull at a good pace. In a few minutes, we reach the cabin that is as cold as outdoors. I help Earl get inside and he begins to strip out of his wet clothes. I find two musty blankets on the bunk that he can wrap in.

Matches lay on a ledge near the barrel stove and a box of kindling is beside it. I get flames started then go dig into a dry woodpile stacked under a tarp on the porch. With hands and arms quaking, Earl tries to stay wrapped up and sits next to the stove.

As soon as I get dry wood crackling in a hot fire, I take off my wool socks, wool sweater and a pair of long stretchy underwear. He protests by shaking his head.

"My boots and coat are enough for me," I say and help him slip into them. I give a good rub to his bright red toes.

"I was coming here," Earl explains between chattering teeth and violent shivers. He holds shaky fingers over the stove. "Brooke said that bear tore up the place, so I want to check it out for Pete."

Until then, I was numb about everything except getting the place warm and Earl's clothes hung up near the stove. Now, I look around. My foot prints make a trail in flour from a broken bag. My footprints move amid tin cups, pans, teakettle and a broken bench. On a top shelf is a can of tea and reach for it. "Looks like Mr. Grizzly left us some tea. Maybe that'll help warm you up."

"Anything hot sounds good." Earl's deep voice vibrates.

I take the teakettle out and fill it with snow. When I put it on the stove, I stoke it up with more wood. My lunch pack held two plain peanut-butter sandwiches. I plop them on the table.

"I only heard a little about that bear. I'll bet Brooke told her favorite uncle the whole story."

"She sure did." Earl smiles and some natural coffee color starts to return to his face.

While we wait for the teakettle to boil, Earl relates the whole tale about Brooke and Shemya with the bear. By the time he tells of Brooke climbing down out of a tree and throwing her arms around the deaf dog, a lump in my throat is bigger than a squirrel. All I can think of is how close she had come to death. The same dog I mocked had fought that grizzly with his very life. That great dog had saved her.

"Hey, tough boy, am I looking at tears?" Creases around Earl's ebony eyes deepen with amusement.

I wipe drops off my cheeks. "I feel a little rotten for things I said about Shemya when Brooke was heading out yesterday morning."

Confessing that to Earl comes easy. He's been there for me and Dad before. He came by our house when my mother was sick and more often after she died.

"Brooke mentioned that." Earl bites into a sandwich then reaches for the kettle to pour hot water over tea leaves in a tin cup.

"It's an old habit, I guess. Since we were in grade school, it's been that way. It's because she competes, always competes. I hated it when she could outrun me in those days."

Earl chuckles. "In Native games like the stick-pull, leg-pull and high-kick, she could beat every kid."

"Yeah, until I grew a few inches taller than her. In the last year or so I beat her at nearly everything but dog races, including the Junior Nationals."

"That's the big one, isn't it?"

"I've got a good team, but hers beat us last year with Shemya in the lead."

"Well, my niece has decided to lead him again this year. Says she owes it to Shemya. He'll be right beside Tok."

"What? She can't expect a deaf dog to lead. I want to beat her, but going against that special dog makes it hard without feeling guilt."

"Well it's her decision to run him. She won't expect any racer to ease off." Earl pours another cup of hot tea.

I add more wood to the fire and refill the kettle with snow. The tiny cabin actually feels warm. Sipping tea and polishing off a peanut-butter sandwich makes Earl say he feels strong enough to head home.

The rugged guy wants to try retrieving the snow machine. He ropes on the blankets and furs, steps out of the cabin on stocking feet, and looks like a mountain man in old cowboy movies.

A veil of new snow covers the dogs, but they shake off like they're ready to run home for a meal. The sub-zero temperature has disappeared. Warm Chinook wind sends snowflakes swirling before us as we start back on the trail.

At the river's edge, the machine is not easy to spot. Dusted in snowflakes, it blends in with willows lining the shore. The frame lays on its side with most of the belly and stirring bar visible. What a relief it is that only a portion of the tracks are submerged in the overflow.

Earl squints. His mechanical mind must be analyzing angles and possibilities for how the dogs can pull the toppled machine. As his socks sink in snow, he digs a heavy-weight rope out of the tool bag behind the driver seat. I hold onto Lugar's collar to keep the team steady while Earl knots the rope onto the machine and the back of the sled.

"Let 'em roll." Earl waves a signal for us to pull at an angled route up the slope.

I latch onto the sled and call to the dogs. The team pulls and I push the sled with my feet in snow. On its side, the machine inches along being pulled on the slanting riverbank. After a few feet, the low incline seems to cause magic. The snow machine topples upright.

I shout, "Hooray. Good plan, Earl. I never could have figured that one out."
He hastily unties the Skidoo and settles onto the seat. Repeatedly he turns the starter knob making the engine sputter and misfire. It coughs and coughs again and again until finally firing into a lively roar.

"Thanks, James," he hollers. "See you in Denaaka."

I hold the startled dogs back until he is out of sight and the roaring motor is only a murmur in the distance. The snowfall has become heavy so Earl's machine tracks make the trail home easy to follow.

Daylight fades away by the time we pass the Malden house. Lights appear in windows and burning spruce logs scent the air. Earl's machine is parked at their doorstep. He is home and with family.