ierce longing,--loving her, yet making
no avowal,--holding her in his heart, yet never disturbing her peace
of spirit by his own heart's tumult,--clinging to her night and day,
yet relinquishing her.

And out of this resolution, against which his nature cried and beat
itself, he saw, serene, and more lonely than Moses or Elijah,--beautiful,
and near to him as his love, the Christ taken to the high places, even
the pinnacle of the temple--and the mountain peak, overlooking the
worlds and the kingdoms thereof, and turning from them all to look down
on him with a countenance of ineffable beauty--the love that dies not.

He lifted his head. The visions were gone. Had he slept? The fire was
burning low and a long line was streaked across the eastern sky; a
line of gold, while still darkness rested below him and around him.
Again he built up the fire, and set the kettle closer. He stood out on
the height at the top of the trail and listened, his figure a black
silhouette against the dancing flames. He called, he shouted with all
his power, then listened. Did he hear a call? Surely it must be. He
plunged downward and called again, and again came the faint response.
In his hand he carried a long pole, and with it he prodded about in
the snow for sure footing and continued to descend, calling from time
to time, and rejoicing to hear the answering call. Yes, Larry Kildene
was below him in the obscurity, and now his voice came up to Harry,
long and clear. He had not far to go ere he saw the big man slowly
toiling upward through the dusk of dawn. He had dismounted, and the
weary animals were following behind.

Thus Larry Kildene came back to his mountain. Exhausted, he still made
light of his achievement--climbing through day and night to arrive
before the snow should embank around him. He stood in the firelight
swaying with weariness and tasted the hot coffee and shook his
grizzled head and laughed. The animals came slowly on and stood close
to him, almost resting their noses on his shoulder, while Harry King
gazed on him with admiration.

"Now if it weren't for the poor beasts, I'd lie down here by the fire
and sleep rather than take a step farther to-night. To-night?
Why--it's morning! Isn't it? I never thought we were so near the end.
If I hadn't seen the fire a long way down, I would have risked another
bivouac for the rest of the night. We might have lived through it--I
don't know, but this is better." He rubbed the nose