oom. A
moment later his wild shouts were assembling the pack, while the
detonations of Alan's pistol continued to roll over the tundra.

The unexpectedness of the shots, their tragic effect, the falling of the
stricken man and the flight of the other, brought no word from Mary
Standish. But her breath was sobbing, and in the lifting of the purplish
gloom she turned her face for an instant to Alan, tensely white, with
wide-open eyes. Her hair covered her like a shining veil, and where it
clustered in a disheveled mass upon her breast Alan saw her hand
thrusting itself forward from its clinging concealment, and in it--to
his amazement--was a pistol. He recognized the weapon--one of a brace of
light automatics which his friend, Carl Lomen, had presented to him
several Christmas seasons ago. Pride and a strange exultation swept over
him. Until now she had concealed the weapon, but all along she had
prepared to fight--to fight with _him_ against their enemies! He wanted
to stop and take her in his arms, and with his kisses tell her how
splendid she was. But instead of this he sped more swiftly ahead, and
they came into the nigger-head bottom which lay in a narrow barrier
between them and the range.

Through this ran a trail scarcely wider than a wagon-track, made through
the sea of hummocks and sedge-boles and mucky pitfalls by the axes and
shovels of his people; finding this, Alan stopped for a moment, knowing
that safety lay ahead of them. The girl leaned against him, and then was
almost a dead weight in his arms. The last two hundred yards had taken
the strength from her body. Her pale face dropped back, and Alan brushed
the soft hair away from it, and kissed her lips and her eyes, while the
pistol lay clenched against his breast. Even then, too hard-run to
speak, she smiled at him, and Alan caught her up in his arms and darted
into the narrow path which he knew their pursuers would not immediately
find if they could bet beyond their vision. He was joyously amazed at
her lightness. She was like a child in his arms, a glorious little
goddess hidden and smothered in her long hair, and he held her closer as
he hurried toward the cabins, conscious of the soft tightening of her
arms about his neck, feeling the sweet caress of her panting breath,
strengthened and made happy by her helplessness.

Thus they came out of the bottom as the first mist of slowly approaching
rain touched his face. He could see farther now--half-way b