m of wood and stream; lakes and rivers were
locked fast under ice, and through the clear, still nights the aurora
flaunted its shimmering banners across the northern sky.

But within the cabin they were snug and warm, Bill's ax kept the
woodpile high. The two fireplaces shone red the twenty-four hours
through. Of flour, tea, coffee, sugar, beans, and such stuff as could
only be gotten from the outside he had a plentiful supply. Potatoes
and certain vegetables that he had grown in a cultivated patch behind
the cabin were stored in a deep cellar. He could always sally forth
and get meat. And the ice was no bar to fishing, for he would cut a
hole, sink a small net, and secure overnight a week's supply of trout
and whitefish. Thus their material wants were provided for.

As time passed Hazel gradually shook off a measure of her depression,
thrust her uneasiness and resentment into the background. As a matter
of fact, she resigned herself to getting through the winter, since that
was inevitable. She was out of the world, the only world she knew, and
by reason of the distance and the snows there was scant chance of
getting back to that world while winter gripped the North. The spring
might bring salvation. But spring was far in the future, too far ahead
to dwell upon. As much as possible, she refrained from thinking,
wisely contenting herself with getting through one day after another.

And in so doing she fell into the way of doing little things about the
house, finding speedily that time flew when she busied herself at some
task in the intervals of delving in Roaring Bill's library.

She could cook--and she did. Her first meal came about by grace of
Roaring Bill's absence. He was hunting, and supper time drew nigh.
She grew hungry, and, on the impulse of the moment, turned herself
loose in the kitchen--largely in a mood for experiment. She had
watched Bill make all manner of things in his Dutch ovens, and observed
how he prepared meat over the glowing coals often enough to get the
hang of it. Wherefore, her first meal was a success. When Roaring
Bill came in, an hour after dark, he found her with cheeks rosy from
leaning over the fire, and a better meal than he could prepare all
waiting for him. He washed and sat down. Hazel discarded her
flour-sack apron and took her place opposite. Bill made no comment
until he had finished and lighted a cigarette.

"You're certainly a jewel, little person," he draw