the row. He went on
mechanically, not heeding where his footsteps took him, and found
suddenly that he had reached the main street down by the river. There
was no darkness nor quiet here, all the stores had their windows wide
open, and the light from them poured out upon the black slippery mass of
ice and melted snow that lay over the frozen ground. The saloons were in
full blast, brilliantly lighted and filled with noisy crowds of miners.
The dance halls, of which there were some dozen along the street, seemed
doing a good business. A shooting gallery that had been fixed up in a
tent was not only filled inside, but a crowd of men and some women were
gathered round the tent entrance, pushing and pressing each other in
their efforts to get in; the glare from the flaming lights inside fell
on their faces, and Stephen glanced eagerly over them to see if Katrine
was amongst them. He passed on, disappointed. There was another tent a
little farther on, where a cheap band was playing, and a board outside
announced in pen-and-ink characters the attraction of a "Catherine Wheel
Dance." The crowd here was even larger, and lights were fixed outside
flaring merrily in the frosty air. Stephen walked on, past the stores
and warehouses, past the noisy crowded saloons, past the brilliant dance
halls and the variety show tents. It was to him all a hideous, tawdry,
glaring mockery of merriment; and on the other side of him was the
sullen blackness of the frozen river. He walked on until he had
outwalked the town front, outwalked the straggling tents, till he had
left the noise, and light, and laughter behind him. When he glanced
round he saw he had nothing but the river and a waste of darkness beside
him. There was an old log in his path; he sat down upon it and looked
back to the mist of light that hung over the town, then his gaze
wandered back disconsolately and rested on the ice-bound river.

Katrine had passed that day wretchedly too. She had been down idling in
one of the saloons through the afternoon, but the old resorts seemed to
have lost their charm. The old pleasure had gone, and the stimulus would
not come back. The cards looked greasy and dirty and revolted her, and
the drink seemed to turn to carbolic acid in her mouth. She left at
last, and went home to her lonely cabin and flung herself down in the
dark in the chimney corner and tried to sleep, but horrible faces danced
before her, and women with grey hair and wrinkles, wi