s of his body called for warmth and nourishment; but for
all the might of her efforts she waged a losing fight.

What little wocus she was able to find she made into bread for Ben; yet
it was never enough to satisfy his body's craving. The only meat she had
herself was the vapid flesh that had been previously boiled for Ben's
broth; and now only a few pieces of the jerked meat remained. She
herself tried to live on such plants as the wilderness yielded, and she
soon began to notice the tragic loss of her own strength. Her eyes were
hollow, preternaturally large; she experienced a strange, floating
sensation, as if spirit and flesh were disassociated.

Still Ben lingered in his mysterious stupor, unaware of what went on
about him; but his fever was almost gone by now, and the first
beginnings of strength returned to his thews. His mind had begun to
grope vaguely for the key that would open the doors of his memory and
remind him again of some great, half-forgotten task that still
confronted him, some duty unperformed. Yet he could not quite seize it.
The girl who worked about his cot was without his bourne of knowledge;
her voice reached him as if from an infinite distance, and her words
penetrated only to the outer edges of his consciousness. It was not
strictly, however, a return of his amnesia. It was simply an outgrowth
of delirium caused by his sickness and injuries, to be wholly dispelled
as soon as he was wholly well.

But now the real hour of crisis was at hand,--not from his illness, but
from the depletion of their food supplies. Beatrice had spent a hard
afternoon in the forest in search of roots and berries, and as she crept
homeward, exhausted and almost empty-handed, the full, tragic truth was
suddenly laid bare. Her own strength had waned. Without the miracle of a
fresh food supply she could hardly keep on her feet another day. Plainly
and simply, the wolf was at the door. His cruel fangs menaced not only
her, but this stalwart man for whose life she had fought so hard.

The fear of the obliterating darkness known to all the woods people
pressed close upon her and appalled her. She loved life simply and
primitively; and it was an unspeakable thing to lose at the end of such
a battle. Out so far, surrounded by such endless, desolate wastes of
gloomy forest, the Shadow was cold, inhospitable; and she was afraid to
face it alone. If Ben would only waken and sustain her drooping spirit
with his own! She was l