The prospector's house in which they had found refuge was perched on the mountainside just at one edge of the draw.Rough as the girl had thought it, there was a more pretentious appearance to it than might have been expected.The cabin was of hewn logs mortared with mud, and care had been taken to make it warm.The fireplace was a huge affair that ate fuel voraciously.It was built of stone, which had been gathered from the immediate hillside.
The prospect itself showed evidence of having been worked a good deal, and it was an easy guess for the man who now stood looking into the tunnel that it belonged to some one of the thousands of miners who spend half their time earning a grubstake, and the other half dissipating it upon some hole in the ground which they have duped themselves into believing is a mine.
From the tunnel his eye traveled up the face of the white mountain to the great snow-comb that yawned over the edge of the rock-rim far above.It had snowed again heavily all night, and now showed symptoms of a thaw.Not once nor twice, but a dozen times, the man's anxious gaze had swept up to that great overhanging bank.Snowslides ran every year in this section with heavy loss to life and property.Given a rising temperature and some wind, the comb above would gradually settle lower and lower, at last break off, plunge down the precipitous slope, bringing thousands of tons of rock and snow with it, and, perhaps, bury them in a Titanic grave of ice.There had been a good deal of timber cut from the shoulder of the mountain during the past summer, and this very greatly increased the danger.That there was a real peril the man looking at it did not attempt to deny to himself.It would be enough to deny it to her in case she should ever suspect.
He had hoped for cold weather, a freeze hard enough to crust the surface of the snow.Upon this he might have made shift somehow to get her to Yesler's ranch, eighteen miles away though it was, but he knew thiswould not be feasible with the snow in its present condition.It was not certain that he could make the ranch alone; encumbered with her, success would be a sheer impossibility.On the other hand, their provisions would not last long.The outlook was not a cheerful one, from whichever point of view he took it; yet there was one phase of it he could not regret.The factors which made the difficulties of the situation made also its delights.Though they were prisoners in this solitary untrodden caynon, the sentence was upon both of them.She could look to none other than he for aid; and, at least, the drifts which kept them in held others out.
Her voice at his shoulder startled him.
"Wherefore this long communion with nature, my captain?" she gaily asked."Behold, my, lord's hot cakes are ready for the pan and his servant to wait upon him." She gave him a demure smiling little curtsy of mock deference.
Never had her distracting charm been more in evidence.He had not seen her since they parted on the previous night.He had built for himself a cot in the woodshack, and had contrived a curtain that could be drawn in front of her bed in the living-room.Thus he could enter in the morning, light the fires, and start breakfast without disturbing her.She had dressed her hair, now in a different way, so that it fell in low waves back from the forehead and was bunched at the nape of her neck.The light swiftness of her dainty grace, the almost exaggerated carnation of the slightly parted lips, the glad eagerness that sparked her eyes, brought out effectively the picturesqueness of her beauty.
His grave eyes rested on her so long that a soft glow mantled her cheeks.Perhaps her words had been too free, though she had not meant them so.For the first time some thought of the conventions distressed her.Ought she to hold herself more in reserve toward him? Must she restrain her natural impulses to friendliness?
His eyes released her presently, but not before she read in them the feelings that had softened them as they gazed into hers.They mirrored his poignant pleasure at the delight of her sweet slenderness so close to him, his perilous joy at the intimacy fate had thrust upon them.Shyly her lids fell to the flushed cheeks.
"Breakfast is ready," she added self-consciously, her girlish innocence startled like a fawn of the forest at the hunter's approachFor whereas she had been blind now she saw in part.Some flash of clairvoyance had laid bare a glimpse of his heart and her own to her.Without misunderstanding the perfect respect for her which he felt, she knew the turbid banked emotions which this dammed.Her heart seemed to beat in her bosom like an imprisoned dove.
It was his voice, calm and resonant with strength, that brought her to earth again.
"And I am ready for it, lieutenant.Right about face.Forward--march!" After breakfast they went out and tramped together the little path of hard-trodden snow in front of the house.She broached the prospect of arescue or the chances of escape.
"We shall soon be out of food, and, anyhow, we can't stay here all winter," she suggested with a tremulous little laugh.
"You are naturally very tired of it already," he hazarded.
"It has been the experience of my life.I shall fence it off from all the days that have passed and all that are to come," she made answer vividly.
Their eyes met, but only for an instant."I am glad," he said quietly.
He began, then, to tell her what he must do, but at the first word of it she broke out in protest.
"No--no--no! We shall stay together.If you go I am going, too.""I wish you could, but it is not possible.You could never get there.The snow is too soft and heavy for wading and not firm enough to bear your weight.""But you will have to wade."
"I am stronger than you, lieutenant."
