ended into their burros, the snowshoe
rabbit hopped, a lonely figure in the desolation, through the drifts.
Such of the other little people that remained--the weasel and the
ptarmigan--had turned to the hue of the snow itself.

But now the snowshoe frames were done, wrought from tough spruce, and
the moose hide cut into thongs and stretched across to make the webs.
For a few days Bill and Virginia had been captives in the cabin, and
they held high revels in celebration of their completion. Now they
could go forth into the drifts again.

It did not mean, however, that the time was ripe for them to take their
sled and mush into Bradleyburg. The snow was still too soft for long
jaunts. They had no tent or pack animals, and they simply would have to
wait for the most favorable circumstances to attempt the journey with
any safety whatever. In the soft snow they could only make, at the
most, ten miles a day; the sled was hard to drag; and the bitter cold of
the nights would claim them quickly. It was not merely an alternative
or a convenience with them to wait for the crust. It was simply
unavoidable. Worst of all, the early winter storms were not done; and a
severe blizzard on the trail would put a swift end to their journey.

But once more Virginia could search the snow for traces of her lover.
And after the jubilant evening meal--held in celebration of the
completion of the snowshoes--the girl stood in the cabin doorway,
looking a long time into the snow-swept waste.

It was a clear, icy night, and the Northern Lights were more vivid and
beautiful than she had ever seen them. Bill thought that she was
watching their display; if he had known the real subject of her
thoughts, he would not have come and stood in the doorway with her. He
would have left her to her dreams.

The whole forest world was wan and ghostly in the mysterious light. The
trees looked strange and dark, perspective was destroyed, the far
mountain gleamed. The streamers seemed to come from all directions, met
with the effect of collision in the sky, and filled the great dome with
uncanny light. Sometimes the flood of radiance would spread and flutter
in waves, like a great, gorgeous canopy stirred by the wind, and
fragments and balls of fire would spatter the breadth of the heavens.
As always, in the face of the great phenomena of nature, Bill was deeply
awed.

"We're not the only ones to see it," Virginia told him softly.
"Somewhere I th