rr Bower? He gave me
two louis for a ten francs job. We must get them together on the hills
again, Christian. He will be soft hearted now, and pay well for taking
care of his lady."

"Yes," said Stampa, resuming his pipe. "You are right, Karl. There is
no place like the hills. And he will pay--the highest price, look you!
_Saperlotte!_ I shall exact a heavy fee this time."

CHAPTER XVI

SPENCER EXPLAINS

A sustained rapping on the inner door of the hut roused Helen from
dreamless sleep. In the twilight of the mind that exists between
sleeping and waking she was bewildered by the darkness, perhaps
baffled by her novel surroundings. She strove to pierce the gloom with
wide-open, unseeing eyes, but the voice of her guide broke the spell.

"Time to get up, _signora_. The sun is on the rock, and we have a
piece of bad snow to cross."

Then she remembered, and sighed. The sigh was involuntary, the half
conscious tribute of a wearied heart. It needed an effort to brace
herself against the long hours of a new day, the hours when thoughts
would come unbidden, when regrets that she was fighting almost
fiercely would rush in and threaten to overwhelm her. But Helen was
brave. She had the courage that springs from the conviction of having
done that which is right. If she was a woman too, with a woman's
infinite capacity for suffering--well, that demanded another sort
of bravery, a resolve to subdue the soul's murmurings, a spiritual
teeth-clenching in the determination to prevail, a complete acceptance
of unmerited wrongs in obedience to some inexplicable decree of
Providence.

So she rose from a couch which at least demanded perfect physical
health ere one could find rest on it, and, being fully dressed, went
forth at once to drink the steaming hot coffee that filled the tiny
hut with its fragrance.

"A fine morning, Pietro?" she asked, addressing the man who had
summoned her.

"_Si, signora._ Dawn is breaking with good promise. There is a slight
mist on the glacier; but the rock shows clear in the sun."

She knew that an amiable grin was on the man's face; but it was so
dark in the _cabane_ that she could see little beyond the figures of
the guide and his companion. She went to the door, and stood for a
minute on the narrow platform of rough stones that provided the only
level space in a witches' cauldron of moss covered boulders and rough
ice. Beneath her feet was an ultramarine mist, around her were masses