carried by the high wave
of their emotion past all the usual preliminaries. He had not even told
her that he loved her. An absurd little fear obtruded itself into her
happiness. Had she rushed into his arms like a lovesick girl, taking it
for granted that he cared for her?

"You--came to look for us?" she asked, with the little shy stiffness of
embarrassment.

"For you--yes."

He could not take his eyes from her. It seemed to him that a bird was
singing in his heart the gladness he could not express. He had for many
hours pushed from his mind pictures of her lying white and rigid on the
snow. Instead she stood beside him, her delicate beauty vivid as the
flush of a flame.

"Did they telephone that we were lost?"

"Yes. I was troubled when the storm grew. I could not sleep. So I called
up the roadhouse by long distance. They had not heard from the stage.
Later I called again. When I could stand it no longer, I started."

"Not on foot?"

"No. With Holt's dog team. He is back there. His leg is broken. A
snow-slide crushed him this morning where we camped."

"Bring him to the cabin. I will tell the others you are coming."

"Have you had any food?" he asked.

A tired smile lit up the shadows of weariness under her soft, dark eyes.
"Boiled oats, plum pudding, and chocolates," she told him.

"We have plenty of food on the sled. I'll bring it at once."

She nodded, and turned to go to the cabin. He watched for a moment the
lilt in her walk. An expression from his reading jumped to his mind.
Melodious feet! Some poet had said that, hadn't he? Surely it must have
been Sheba of whom he was thinking, this girl so virginal of body and of
mind, free and light-footed as a caribou on the hills.

Gordon returned to the sled and drove the team up the draw to the cabin.
The three who had been marooned came to meet their rescuer.

"You must 'a' come right through the storm lickitty split," Swiftwater
said.

"You're right we did. This side pardner of mine was hell-bent on
wrestling with a blizzard," Holt answered dryly.

"Sorry you broke your laig, Gid."

"Then there's two of us sorry, Swiftwater. It's one of the best laigs
I've got."

Sheba turned to the old miner impulsively. "If you could be knowing what
I am thinking of you, Mr. Holt,--how full our hearts are of the
gratitude--" She stopped, tears in her voice.

"Sho! No need of that, Miss. He dragged me along." His thumb jerked
toward the man who was driving.