brain clear, he had never felt his strength so irresistible as at this
moment, while Mort, for all his boasted superiority, was nothing but a
nerveless thing hanging limp against his breast. Providence had arranged
it all. The younger man was impelled to give raucous voice to his glee,
and yet--his helpless burden exerted an odd effect upon him.

He deposited his foe upon the sled and stared at the face he had not met
for many days. He saw how white it was, how wet and cold, how weak and
dazed, then as he looked he cursed inwardly, for the triumph of his
moment was spoiled.

The ax was there, its polished bit showed like a piece of ice, its helve
protruded handily, but there was no need of it now; his fingers were all
the weapons Johnny needed; they were more than sufficient, in fact, for
Mort was like a child.

Cantwell was a strong man, and, although the North had coarsened him,
yet underneath the surface was a chivalrous regard for all things weak,
and this the trail madness had not affected. He had longed for this
instant, but now that it had come he felt no enjoyment, since he could
not harm a sick man and waged no war on cripples. Perhaps, when Mort had
rested, they could settle their quarrel; this was as good a place as
any. The storm hid them, they would leave no traces, there could be no
interruption.

But Mort did not rest. He could not walk; movement brought excruciating
pain.

Finally Cantwell heard himself saying: "Better wrap up and lie still
for a while. I'll get the dogs underway." His words amazed him dully.
They were not at all what he had intended to say.

The injured man demurred, but the other insisted gruffly, then brought
him his mittens and cap, slapping the snow out of them before rousing
the team to motion. The load was very heavy now, the dogs had no
footprints to guide them, and it required all of Cantwell's efforts to
prevent capsizing. Night approached swiftly, the whirling snow particles
continued to flow past upon the wind, shrouding the earth in an
impenetrable pall.

The journey soon became a terrible ordeal, a slow, halting progress that
led nowhere and was accomplished at the cost of tremendous exertion.
Time after time Johnny broke trail, then returned and urged the huskies
forward to the end of his tracks. When he lost the path he sought it
out, laboriously hoisted the sledge back into place, and coaxed his
four-footed helpers to renewed effort. He was drenched with
perspir