st of the White
Squaw. But the weariness had been mental. The excitement of their going
had eaten up their spirit, and left them with a feeling of distressing
lassitude. They were sobered; and, as men recovering from drunkenness,
they felt ashamed, and their tempers were uncertain.

But as the string of huskies raced down into the valley they knew so
well, yelping a joyful greeting to the familiar objects about them, the
men began to feel better, and less like those who are detected in
unworthy actions.

The dogs emerged upon their original outward-bound trail and pursued it
along the edge of the forest. They needed no urging, and even set a pace
which taxed all their masters' speed. The sight of the familiar scenes
had banished the "Dread of the Wild" from the minds of the two men, and
their spirits rose as they approached the frost-bound river below their
home. There were no stealing glances into the gloomy shelter of the
woods, no nervous backward turns of the head. They looked steadily ahead
for the glad sight of their home; and the snap of the crisp snow under
the heavy-footed dogs, and the eager, steady pull on the traces brought
a cheerful light to their eyes such as had not been there for days.

But although they had failed to discover the White Squaw, she was by no
means forgotten. A certain sense of relief had followed their first
moments of keen disappointment, but it was only a revulsion of their
strained nerves; thoughts of her which were, perhaps, less fiery and
reckless, but consequently more enduring, still possessed them.

Ralph was especially calm. He had thought the whole thing over in his
deliberate fashion, and, finally, admitted to himself that what had
happened was for the best. Nick was less easy. His disappointment had
slightly soured an already hasty, but otherwise kindly, disposition. He
needed something of his brother's calm to balance him. But, however, in
both cases, somewhere deep down in their hearts the fateful flame so
strangely kindled was still burning; a deep, strong, unquenchable fire.

They were almost home. Before them lay the frozen waterway. Beyond that,
and above, rose the hill, on the face of which stood their shack; and
about them was the brooding silence, still and portentous, but familiar.

The lead-dog plunged down the bank and the rest followed, whilst Ralph
and Nick steadied the laden sled. The brief passage was made, and Nick's
whip drove the fierce, willing beasts