own stiffly and vanished into the snow. He
was half frozen, and it did not occur to him that Nasmyth had only one
hand with which to loose the harness. It is also possible that he
would have made no protest if it had.

Nasmyth reached the stable, and contrived to find and to light the
lantern, but he discovered that it would be difficult to do anything
more. His sound hand was numbed. His fingers would not bend, and the
buckles of the harness held, in spite of his efforts, but he
persisted. The struggle he was waging in the canyon had stirred him
curiously, and each fresh obstacle roused him to a half-savage
determination. Though the action sent a thrill of pain through him, he
laid his bound-up hand upon the headstall, and set his lips as he tore
at a buckle. He felt that if the thing cost him hours of effort he
would not be beaten.

He had, however, let his hand fall back into the bandage that hung
from his neck, when the door opened and Laura Waynefleet came in. She
saw him leaning against the side of the stall, with a greyness in his
face, which had an angry red scar down one side of it, and her eyes
shone with compassion.

"Sit down," she said. "I will do that."

Nasmyth, who straightened himself, shook his head. "I can manage it if
you will loose the buckles," he said. "One feels a little awkward with
only one hand."

They did it together, and then Nasmyth sat down, with his face drawn
and lined. Laura stood still a moment or two with the lantern in her
hand.

"The snow must be deep on the divide, and it is a very rough trail. I
suppose you walked all the way?" she said.

Nasmyth contrived to smile. "As it happens, I am used to it."

There was a flash of indignation in the girl's eyes, for she had,
after all, a spice of temper, and she was naturally acquainted with
her father's character. Her anger had, however, disappeared next
moment.

"You are looking ill," she remarked anxiously.

Nasmyth glanced down at the bandage. "I've been working rather hard of
late, and this hand is painful." He made a deprecatory gesture. "I
don't know what excuse to offer for troubling you. Gordon insisted on
sending me."

"You fancy I require one from you?"

Nasmyth looked at her with heavy eyes. "No," he answered, "it is
evident that you don't. After all, perhaps I shouldn't have wished to
make any excuse. It seems only natural that when I get hurt, or find
myself in any trouble, I should come to you."

He did not