ceries. I longed to do something
different; to go out and take my chances, and see if I couldn't make my
mark. Then I wanted money, for mother's sake. So I came, but as soon
as I got wet and tired I was afraid."

Jim pondered. Carrie had pluck; it meant much that she had owned her
fears. She meant to conquer them and he imagined she looked to him for
help. His business was to give her back her confidence, but this could
not be done by awkward flattery. In the meantime, he looked about.
The fire had sunk, the moon was rising, and through a gap between the
trunks one could see a dark gulf, out of which thin mist rolled. The
vapor streamed across long rows of ragged pines that ran up among the
rocks until they melted in the gloom. In the distance, a glimmering
line of snow cut against the sky. The landscape had grandeur but not
beauty. It was stern and forbidding.

"I think we are all afraid now and then," he said. "I never hit the
North trail without shrinking. Perhaps it's instinct, or something
like that. In the cities, man lives in comfort by using machines, but
he's up against Nature all the time in the wilds. She must be fought
and beaten and he must leave behind the weapons he knows. Up North, a
small accident or carelessness may cost you your life; an ax forgotten,
a bag of flour lost, mean frostbite and hunger that may stop the march.
You have got to be braced and watchful; it's a grim country and it
kills off the slack. But we are only on its edge and things are
different here. If we are beaten, we can fall back. The trail to the
cities is open."

"Would you fall back?" Carrie asked.

"Not unless I'm forced," Jim answered with a laugh.

"Nor will I," said Carrie. "I've been a fool to-night, but if I'm up
against silly old things like instincts, I'm going to put them down."

"You will make good all right. But what did your mother think when you
resolved to come with us?"

Carrie hesitated, and then gave Jim a level glance.

"You didn't see mother much. She was busy; she's always busy, and you
don't know her yet. She's quiet, you don't feel her using control, but
one does what she wants, and I can't remember when that was wrong.
Well, I suppose she felt, on the surface, I oughtn't to go. It was the
proper, conventional view, but when it's needful mother can go deep. I
think she was willing to give me a chance of finding out, and trying,
my powers; she knew I wouldn't be so restless