ned not at the absence of her lord, now
touched Captain's arm. "Come," she said; "I go with you." Then
addressing Barton, "You quick go Indian house; white man die, mebbe.
Quick! I go Big George."

"Ah, Charlie, I'm afraid you'll never make it," cried Barton, and,
wringing his friend's hand, he staggered into the darkness behind the
sled wherein lay the fur-bundled Sullivan.

Captain felt a horror of the starving waters rise up in him and a
panic shook him fiercely, till he saw the silent squaw waiting for
him at the ice edge. He shivered as the wind searched through his
dampened parka and hardened the wet clothing next to his body, but he
took his place and dug the paddle fiercely into the water, till the
waves licked the hair of his gauntlets.

The memory of that scudding trip through the darkness was always
cloudy and visioned. Periods of keen alertness alternated with
moments when his weariness bore upon him till he stiffly bent to his
work, wondering what it all meant.

It was the woman's sharpened ear which caught the first answering
cry, and her hands which steered the intricate course to the heaving
berg where the sailor crouched, for, at their approach, Captain had
yielded to the drowse of weariness and, in his relief at the finding,
the blade floated from his listless hands.

He dreamed quaint dreams, broken by the chilling lash of spray from
the strokes of the others, as they drove the craft back against the
wind, and he only partly awoke from his lethargy when George wrenched
him from his seat and forced him down the rough trail toward warmth
and safety.

Soon, however, the stagnant blood tingled through his veins, and
under the shelter of the bluffs they reached the village, where they
found the anxious men waiting.

Skilful natives had worked the frost from Sullivan's members, and the
stimulants in the sled had put new life into Barton as well. So, as
the three crawled wearily through the dog-filled tunnel of the egloo,
they were met by two wet-eyed and thankful men, who silently wrung
their hands or uttered broken words.

When they had been despoiled of their frozen furs, and the welcome
heat of whisky and fire had met in their blood, Captain approached
the whaler, who rested beside his mate.

"George, you're the bravest man I ever knew, and your woman is worthy
of you," he said. He continued slowly, "I'm sorry about the fight
this morning, too."

The big man rose and, crushing the ext