storm did not abate. From their
bunkhouse they watched, day and night, for the end; their horses ready,
heavy clothing at hand for a plunge into the white waste that stretched
on all sides of them. Had they known which way Lawler had gone when he
left the Circle L they would have searched for him despite the frigid
danger that gripped the world. But Lawler had gone, leaving no word;
and there was nothing the men could do.

Through a window in the Circle L ranchhouse anxious eyes peered
also--those of a gray-haired woman with a kindly, gentle face into
which, as the long days passed, came lines that had not been there
before. And yet in the watching eyes was a gleam of hope--of calm
confidence in the big son who was somewhere in the white waste--a
conviction that he was safe, that he would survive and return to her.

CHAPTER XXIII

A WOMAN'S WILES

From the ceiling of the cabin Lawler had suspended a spare blanket. It
hung between the two tiers of bunks, thus providing a certain privacy
for both Miss Wharton and Lawler.

Lawler had been scrupulously considerate, and with a delicacy that must
have earned her applause--had she been serious-minded--he had sought to
seem unaware or indifferent to the many inevitable intimacies forced
upon them by the nature of their association.

He knew, however, that the girl was secretly laughing at him. Certain
signs were convincing. On the first night of their enforced joint
occupancy of the cabin, she had silently watched him tack the blanket to
the ceiling; and though she had said nothing, he had noted a gleam in
her eyes which had made him wonder if he should not have waited until
_she_ suggested it.

At other times he felt her gaze upon him--her eyes always glowing with
the suggestion of silent mirth. She seemed to be amused over the
delicacy he exhibited--to be wondering at it. Whether she appreciated it
or not he did not know, or care. For he had noted other things that had
increased his contempt of her. She was betraying absolutely no
perturbation over her enforced stay in the cabin with him. On the
contrary, her manner gave him the impression that she was enjoying
herself and not thinking of the future. She was contented with the
present.

Moreover, he could not fail to be aware of her interest in him; for the
many signs were infallible. Glances, the intonations of her voice, a way
she had of standing close to him, of touching his hands or his
shoulders--all