the click of the latch, every nerve strung tight.

He came at last, and the thump of his rifle as he stood it against the
wall had no more than sounded before he was bending over her. He sat
down on the edge of the bed, and putting his arm across her shoulders,
turned her gently so that she faced him.

"Never mind, little person," he whispered. "It's done and over. I'm
sorry I slashed at you the way I did. That's a fool man's way--if he's
hurt and sore he always has to jump on somebody else."

Then by some queer complexity of her woman's nature the tears forced
their way. She did not want to cry--only the weak and mushy-minded
wept. She had always fought back tears unless she was shaken to the
roots of her soul. But it was almost a relief to cry with Bill's arm
holding her close. And it was brief. She sat up beside him presently.
He held her hand tucked in between his own two palms, but he looked
wistfully at the window, as if he were seeing what lay beyond.

"Poor, dumb devils!" he murmured. "I feel like a murderer. But it was
pure mercy to them. They won't suffer the agony of frost, nor the slow
pain of starvation. That's what it amounted to--they'd starve if they
didn't freeze first. I've known men I would rather have shot. I
bucked many a hard old trail with Silk and Satin. Poor, dumb devils!"

"D-don't, Bill!" she cried forlornly. "I know it's my fault. I let
the fire almost go out, and then built it up big without thinking. And
I know being sorry doesn't make any difference. But please--I don't
want to be miserable over it. I'll never be careless again."

"All right; I won't talk about it, hon," he said. "I don't think you
will ever be careless about such things again. The North won't let us
get away with it. The wilderness is bigger than we are, and it's
merciless if we make mistakes."

"I see that." She shuddered involuntarily. "It's a grim country. It
frightens me."

"Don't let it," he said tenderly. "So long as we have our health and
strength we can win out, and be stronger for the experience. Winter's
a tough proposition up here, but you want to fight shy of morbid
brooding over things that can't be helped. This ever-lasting frost and
snow will be gone by and by. It'll be spring. And everything looks
different when there's green grass and flowers, and the sun is warm.
Buck up, old girl--Bill's still on the job."

"How can you prospect in the spring without horses to pa