med tasks impossible of achievement. At first
it had never occurred to her that she might herself be of aid to Bill.
The old processes of her mind still ran true to form; she had gone to
ask a man to carry out her wish. At first she had felt wholly helpless
at his refusal. But why should she not go herself?

If indeed Bill had reached the Twenty-three Mile cabin, he would be
mushing home by now; she would meet him somewhere on his snowshoe trail.
No harm would be done. It might even be a pleasant adventure to mush
with him in the snow. The snow itself was perfect for travel; and she
had learned that her strong young body was capable of long distances in
a day. And if he were in trouble she could help him.

It might mean building a fire in the snow and possibly camping out
through the day and night to come. It would be a dreadful and dangerous
experience, yet she saw no reason why she couldn't endure it. Bill had
showed her how to make the best of such a bad situation as this. He
had taught her how to build a fire in the snow; her round, slender
arms--made muscular in her weeks in the North--could cut fuel to keep
it burning. Besides, she would carry the caribou robe--one of the cot
coverings that Bill had stored in his cabin and which, though light as
down, was practically impervious to cold. Besides, there was no one
else to go.

She went swiftly to her cabin, put on her warmest clothing, and, as Bill
had showed her, rolled a compact pack for her back. She took a little
package of food--nourishing chocolate and dried meat--the whisky
flask that had been her salvation the night of the river experience, and
a stub of candle for fire-building, tying them firmly in the caribou
robe. The entire package weight only about ten pounds. She fastened it
on her shoulders, hung a camp ax at her belt; and as she waited for the
dawn, ate a hearty but cold breakfast. Then, with never a backward
look, she started away, down the dim, wind-blown, snowshoe trail.

XXV

Now that the fight was done, Bill lay quite calm and peaceful in the
drifts. The pain of the cold and the wrack of exhausted muscles were
quite gone.

He was face to face with the flaming truth, and he knew his fate. The
North, defied so long, had conquered him a last. It had been waiting
for him, lurking, watching its chance; and with its cruel agents, the
bitter cold and the unending snow, it had crushed and beaten him down.
He felt no resentm