ter."

"To Smith's Crossing?" asked Gordon.

"Expect so." Then, with a whoop, the man on the sled contradicted
himself. "No, by Moses, to Dick Fiddler's old cabin up the draw. That's
where Swiftwater would aim for till the blizzard was over."

"Where is it?" demanded his friend.

"Swing over to the right and follow the little gulch. I'll wait till you
come back."

Gordon dropped the gee-pole and started on the instant. Eagerness,
anxiety, dread fought in his heart. He knew that any moment now he might
stumble upon the evidence of the sad story which is repeated in Alaska
many times every winter. It rang in him like a bell that where tough,
hardy miners succumbed a frail girl would have small chance.

He cut across over the hill toward the draw, and at what he saw his
pulse quickened. Smoke was pouring out of the chimney of a cabin and
falling groundward, as it does in the Arctic during very cold weather.
Had Sheba found safety there? Or was it the winter home of a prospector?

As he pushed forward the rising sun flooded the earth with pink and
struck a million sparkles of color from the snow. The wonder of it drew
the eyes of the young man for a moment toward the hills.

A tumult of joy flooded his veins. The girl who held in her soft hands
the happiness of his life stood looking at him. It seemed to him that
she was the core of all that lovely tide of radiance. He moved toward
her and looked down into the trench where she waited. Swiftly he kicked
off his snowshoes and leaped down beside her.

The gleam of tears was in her eyes as she held out both hands to him.
During the long look they gave each other something wonderful to both
of them was born into the world.

When he tried to speak his hoarse voice broke. "Sheba--little Sheba!
Safe, after all. Thank God, you--you--" He swallowed the lump in his
throat and tried again. "If you knew--God, how I have suffered! I was
afraid--I dared not let myself think."

A live pulse beat in her white throat. The tears brimmed over. Then,
somehow, she was in his arms weeping. Her eyes slowly turned to his,
and he met the touch of her surrendered lips.

Nature had brought them together by one of her resistless and
unpremeditated impulses.

CHAPTER XXVII

TWO ON THE TRAIL

A stress of emotion had swept her into his arms. Now she drew away from
him shyly. The conventions in which she had been brought up asserted
themselves. Sheba remembered that they had been