uld be
half-an-hour's more daylight, half-an-hour before the men returned to
miss her. She would get a good start anyway. She turned into the cabin
again, her face aglow and her eyes sparkling. She knew that Stephen
would be fearfully angry with her--she had not been once to the town
since her marriage--but she had a stronger nature than Stephen's, and
felt no fear of his anger.

"He thinks I am a reformed character," she muttered contemptuously to
herself, as she put on her thick rubber boots. "Well, I told him there
was only one chance to reform me, and that was to take me away from
here, and he wouldn't do it."

She built up the fire in an enormous bank, and left the men's slippers
and dry socks beside it. Then she slipped into her long skin coat, and
crushed the fur cap down on her eyebrows and pulled it over her ears. As
she went out she took a long look at the claims--the men were still busy
there. "Slaves," she muttered. She closed the door with a sharp snap and
left the key hanging on it, as was usual when she was inside. Then she
turned her face to the town trail, and set off at a long steady stride
through the dead silent air. The town was within easy walking distance
for her, and though it would be dark before she reached it, that
mattered very little, her eyes were strong and almost as good as a wild
cat's in the dark. On every hand the sky seemed to hang low and
threatening over the earth, and the air had the grip of iron in it, but
Katrine pushed on at the same even pace without even an apprehensive
glance round. Her spirits rose as she walked. She felt the old sense of
gladness in her youth and strength and health, and in her freedom, and
she bounded along over the hard, glittering snow, full of a mere
irresponsible animal pleasure, such as moves the young chamois in his
bounds from rock to rock. Darkness had come like a blot upon the earth
before she had done half the distance, but now she had the twinkling
lights and the reddish haze of Dawson before her. Her own eyes
brightened as she caught sight of them, and she hastened her steps. By
the time night had fairly settled down she came into the side streets of
the town. Dawson is an all-night town, and things were in full
blast--saloons, shooting-galleries, dance-halls, and dog-fights going on
just as usual. She noted with satisfaction that nothing seemed to have
altered a little bit since she saw it last, and as she turned into Good
Luck Row, to walk