saw a whirling mass of snow, heard a roar like ten thousand demons
let loose, and felt the strong grip of Jim pulling her down on the snow.

For an hour it raged. It was beyond her wildest imagination. Never had she
beheld or even conceived anything so utterly merciless and devastating.
Great masses of snow were lifted from the mountain-top and driven before
the almost solid wind. It lashed her few inches of exposed flesh, until
she found the antidote by placing her heavy mittens before her face and
burying her head close to the ground.

Then it lifted, and the sun shone in dazzling radiance from a frozen sky.
The packs and the party were white as the landscape that yawned away on
all sides. Before them was a slope as precipitous as that they had just
negotiated--but it went _down_. The Indians dug out their packs and,
taking their pay, went on in search of further jobs.

Angela wondered how Jim was going to negotiate the dizzy downward path. It
ran almost perpendicularly to Crater Lake, beyond which it was easier
going.

Jim took the big sled to the top of the slide, and commenced to dump the
various packages on to it. With a coil of hemp rope he lashed this load
into one compact mass. It hung on the sheer edge of a precipice, ready for
instant flight. The meaning of it suddenly came to her.

"You--you aren't going to slide down?"

"I jest am," he said. "Sit you down there."

Reluctantly she obeyed, clinging tightly to the knotted rope. She saw him
give the sled a violent push and jump aboard. It started down the incline,
gathering momentum at a dreadful rate. In twenty seconds it was rushing
onward like a cannon-ball raising the snow and shrieking as it went....
The speed eventually decreased. They passed the frozen lake and made for
Linderman, Jim dragging the sled and Angela pushing on the gee-pole.

After that it was a nightmare. Angela's impression was of one endless
white wilderness, broken only by a network of frozen lakes and occasional
icy precipices. At nights they pitched their tent amid the vast
loneliness, banking it with snow to keep out the freezing cold. At times
they were held up for days, confined to the evil-smelling tent with a
blizzard blowing outside. The oilstove was a blessing, despite its
sickening odor, and only the piled-up snow kept the small tent from being
blown to ribbons. It was little more than an Esquimo igloo.

When the wind went this merciless husband downed the tent, packed