pulling the chair close to
the fire.

Then he got out a frying-pan and began to prepare supper for her. When
the aroma of the sizzling bacon was wafted to her, he heard her exclaim:

"U-um, that smells good! Why, I am almost famished!"

Five minutes later, with a plate in her lap and a cup of steaming coffee
resting on the rail of the bunk, she was eating. Her eyes were bright
and her color high as she watched Lawler, who was seated at the table
with his back to her.

"You don't feel much like talking, do you?"

"No," he said. "According to the way this norther is whooping it up
we'll run out of talk before we can break trail out of here."

"Do you mean that the storm may last some days?"

"There is no telling. At this time of the year they are mighty
uncertain. I've known them to stick around for a month or more."

She sat very silent, and for a time did not even move her lips. Stealing
a swift glance at her, expecting to see a worried light in her eyes,
Lawler noted that there was a slight--a very slight smile on her lips.

He was amazed, incredulous, and he stole another glance at her to make
certain. There was no denying it--there was a smile in the eyes that
were gazing meditatively past him into the fire; a smile on her
lips--giving him proof that the prospect of remaining alone in the cabin
with him had not crushed her--had not brought the hysterical protests
that he had feared. She was plainly pleased, possibly considering the
thing an adventure which would have no damaging consequences.

With a malice in his eyes that she did not see--for he looked gravely at
her, he said, slowly:

"Listen, Miss Wharton!"

He raised a hand and looked at the north window. Following his gaze she
saw the snow whipping against the glass, rattling against the panes like
small hailstones hurled with frightful velocity. The incessant droning
whine of the wind reached their ears, deep in volume as though it would
tell them of its interrupted sweep across the vast plains; as though to
convince them of its unlimited power and ferocity. She knew as well as
he that the big drifts around the cabin had grown bigger; that other
drifts were forming around the walls. For the sounds were muffled, and a
great, weird calm had settled inside the cabin. The walls, snow-banked,
were deadening outside sound.

"A man couldn't go half a mile in that, now, Miss Wharton. And it will
be days before anybody can reach us. I am afraid we are in