ith her own willingness; his wife. And now he was
doing for her the first intimate little thing. He drew off her boots and
stockings and found that her feet were terribly cold. He wrapped them in
a hot blanket and hastened to set a pot of water on the coals. While the
water warmed he knelt and chafed her feet between his palms, afraid for
a moment that they were frozen. Finally, while he bathed them in
steaming water, the dead white began to give place to a faint pinkness,
like a blush, and again he put the blanket about them.

She had not moved. When a second time he laid his hand against her
throat the cold of it alarmed him. He hesitated a moment; then, the
urgent need being more than evident, he began swiftly to undo her outer
garments. The boyish shirt he unbuttoned and managed to remove; it was
wet through, and stiff with frost. He noted her under-garments, silken
and foolish little things, with amazement; she had known no better than
to wear such nonsensical affairs on a trip like this! Good God, what
_did_ she know? But he did not pause in his labours until he had slipped
off the wet clothing. Then he wrapped her in another warm blanket and
placed her on her bed, her feet still to the blaze. All of the time she
had seemed, and probably was, hardly conscious. Now only she opened her
eyes.

"I can't have you playing the fool and getting pneumonia," he growled at
her. "We've got our hands full as it is. Don't you know enough to ..."

But she was not listening. She stirred slightly, eased herself into a
new position, cuddled her face against a bare arm, sighed, and went to
sleep.

_Chapter XXIII_

All night King kept his fire blazing. With several long sticks and a
piece of the canvas, drawing deeply upon his ingenuity and almost to the
dregs of his patience, he contrived a rude barrier to the cold across
the mouth of the cave. Countless times he rolled out of his own bunk,
heavy-eyed and stiff, to readjust the screen when it had blown down, to
put more wood on his fire, to make sure that Gloria was covered and
warm, sleeping heavily, and not dead. His nerves were frayed. In the
long night his fears grew, misshapen and grotesque. Within his soul he
prayed mutely that when morning came Gloria would be alive. When with
the first sickly streaks of dawn he went to put fresh fuel upon the
dying embers he found that there was but a handful of wood left. He came
to stoop over the girl and listen to her breathi