ng among the
supplies. His mind at once leaped to the box of shells for her pistol
that he had thrown among the duffle, but evidently this was not the
object of her search. She lifted into her hands a paper parcel, the same
she had brought from her cabin early that morning.

He tried to analyze the curious mingling of emotions in her face. It was
neither white with disdain nor dark with wrath; and the tears were gone
from her eyes. Rather her expression was speculative, pensive. Presently
her eyes met his.

His heart leaped; why he did not know. "What is, it?" he asked.

"Ben--I called you that yesterday and there's no use going back to last
names now--I've made an important decision."

"I hope it's a happy one," he ventured.

"It's as happy as it can be, under the circumstances. Ben, I came of a
line of frontiersmen--the forest people--and if the woods teach one
thing it is to make the best of any bad situation."

Ben nodded. For all his long training he had not entirely mastered this
lesson himself, but he knew she spoke true.

"We've found out how hard Fate can hit--if I can make it plain," she
went on. "We've found out there are certain powers--or devils--or
something else, and what I don't know--that are always lying in wait for
people, ready to strike them down. Maybe you would call it Destiny. But
the Destiny city men know isn't the Destiny we know out here--I don't
have to tell you that. We see Nature just as she is, without any gay
clothes, and we know the cruelty behind her smile, and the evil plans
behind her gentle words."

The man was amazed. Evidently the stress and excitement of the morning
had brought out the fanciful and poetic side of the girl's nature.

"We don't look for good luck," she told him. "We don't expect to live
forever. We know what death is, and that it is sure to come, and that
misfortune comes always--in the snow and the cold and the falling
tree--and when we have good luck we're glad--we don't take it for
granted. Living up here, where life is real, we've learned that we have
to make the best of things in order to be happy at all."

"And you mean--you're going to try to make the best of _this_?" His
voice throbbed ever so slightly, because he could not hold it even.

"There's nothing else I can do," she replied. "You've taken me here and
as yet I don't see how I can get away. This doesn't mean I've gone over
to your side."

He nodded. He understood _that_ very well.

"I'