s the marks swung out to pass the
jutting cliff the lead-dog followed their course; Nick, on the right of
them, moved wide, and craned to obtain a first view of the hut. Suddenly
he gave a great shout. The dogs dropped in their harness and crouched,
snarling and snapping, their jaws clipping together with the sound of
castanets, whilst their wiry manes rose upon their shoulders bristling
with ferocity which had in it something of fear. Ralph reached his
brother's side and peered beyond the cliff.

And as he looked his breath suddenly ceased, and one hand clutched his
brother's arm with a force that bruised the softer flesh, and in silence
the two men gaped at the vision which they beheld. There was what seemed
an endless pause while the men and dogs alike focused their gaze upon
the strange apparition.

A figure, calm, serene, stood before the door of the dugout, from which
the logs had been removed. Like a sentry "at ease" the figure stood
resting gracefully, leaning upon the muzzle of a long rifle. Fur crowned
the head which was nobly poised, and a framing of flowing dark hair
showed off to perfection the marble-like whiteness of the calm,
beautiful face. The robes were characteristic of the Northern Indians;
beads, buckskin and fur. A tunic reached to the knees, and below that
appeared "chaps," which ended where woollen stockings surmounted
moosehide moccasins.

A wild, picturesque figure was this creature of the mountain solitude;
and, to the wondering eyes of the two men, something which filled them
with superstitious awe and a primitive gladness that was almost
overpowering. The dogs alone seemed to resent the intrusion. There was
no joy in their attitude which was one of angry protest.

Nick broke the silence.

"White--white," he murmured, without knowledge that he spoke aloud.

Ralph's face was working. His excitement, slow to rise, now overwhelmed
him, and he answered in a similar tone.

"That hair," he muttered. "Dark, dark; an' them chaps wi' beads of Injun
patte'n. An' the muzzle-loadin' weapin."

Nick took up the argument as his brother broke off.

"It's a squaw, too."

"Her eyes, he says, was blue," Ralph murmured, breathing hard.

"An' she was leanin' on a gun," Nick added softly.

"It's--"

"By Gar! It is!"

Nick turned to the dogs with the wild impetuosity of a man who knows not
the meaning of patience. His fiery orders fairly hurled the brutes at
their task, and the sled leapt forward