top," Labiskwee whispered painfully, "or we will die. We
must cover up--so the old men said."

She did not delay to untie knots, but began cutting her pack-lashings.
Smoke cut his, and, with a last look at the fiery death-mist and the
mockery of suns, they covered themselves over with the sleeping-furs and
crouched in each other's arms. They felt a body stumble over them and
fall, then heard feeble whimpering and blaspheming drowned in a violent
coughing fit, and knew it was McCan who huddled against them as he
wrapped his robe about him.

Their own lung-strangling began, and they were racked and torn by a dry
cough, spasmodic and uncontrollable. Smoke noted his temperature rising
in a fever, and Labiskwee suffered similarly. Hour after hour the
coughing spells increased in frequency and violence, and not till late
afternoon was the worst reached. After that the mend came slowly, and
between spells they dozed in exhaustion.

McCan, however, steadily coughed worse, and from his groans and howls
they knew he was in delirium. Once, Smoke made as if to throw the robes
back, but Labiskwee clung to him tightly.

"No," she begged. "It is death to uncover now. Bury your face here,
against my parka, and breathe gently and do no talking--see, the way I
am doing."

They dozed on through the darkness, though the decreasing fits of
coughing of one invariably aroused the other. It was after midnight,
Smoke judged, when McCan coughed his last. After that he emitted low and
bestial moanings that never ceased.

Smoke awoke with lips touching his lips. He lay partly in Labiskwee's
arms, his head pillowed on her breast. Her voice was cheerful and usual.
The muffled sound of it had vanished.

"It is day," she said, lifting the edge of the robes a trifle. "See, O
my lover. It is day; we have lived through; and we no longer cough. Let
us look at the world, though I could stay here thus forever and always.
This last hour has been sweet. I have been awake, and I have been loving
you."

"I do not hear McCan," Smoke said. "And what has become of the young men
that they have not found us?"

He threw back the robes and saw a normal and solitary sun in the sky. A
gentle breeze was blowing, crisp with frost and hinting of warmer days
to come. All the world was natural again. McCan lay on his back, his
unwashed face, swarthy from camp-smoke, frozen hard as marble. The sight
did not affect Labiskwee.

"Look!" she cried. "A snow bird! It i