g her warm cheek
close to his. "I do love you, I do, I do," she told him confidingly, as
if this message would call him back to life. Her lips sought his, trying
to give them warmth, and her voice was low and broken when she spoke
again. "Can't you hear me, Ben--won't you try to come back to me? If
you're dead I'll die too--"

But the man did not open his eyes. Would not even this appeal arouse him
from this deep, strange sleep in which he lay? He had always been so
watchful of her--since that first day--so zealous for her safety. She
held him closer, her lips trembling against his.

But she must get herself in hand again! Perhaps life had not yet
completely flickered out; and she could nurse it back. She dropped her
ear to his breast, listening.

Yes, she felt the faint stirring of his heart. It was so feeble, the
throbs were so far apart, yet they meant life,--life that might flush
his cheeks again, and might yet bring him back to her, into her arms. He
was breathing, too; breaths so faint that she hardly dared to believe in
their reality. And presently she realized that his one hope of life lay
in getting back to the fire.

For long hours he had been lying in the cold rain; a few more minutes
would likely extinguish the spark of life that remained in his breast.
Her hand stole over his powerful frame, in an effort to get some idea of
the nature of his wounds.

One of his arms was broken; its position indicated that. Some of his
ribs were crushed too--what internal injuries he had that might end him
before the morning she did not know. But she could not take time to
build a sledge and cut away the brush. She worked her shoulder under his
body.

Wrenching with all her fine, young strength she lifted him upon her
shoulder; then, kneeling in the vines, she struggled for breath. Then
thrusting with her arm she got on her feet.

His weight was over fifty pounds greater than her own; but her woods
training, the hard work she had always done, had fitted her for just
such a test as this. She started with her burden toward the cave.

She had long known how to carry an injured man, suspending him over her
shoulder, head pointed behind her, her arms clasping his thigh. With her
free arm she seized the tree branches to sustain her. She had no light
now; she was guided only by the faint glow of the fire at the cavern
mouth.

After a hundred feet the load seemed unbearable. Except for the fact
that she soon got on the w