the entrance and fresh air was
excluded.... Jim felt the body close to him--it was still as death. A
great fear swept through him. She was not strong enough for this
trial--she was----! He thrust his hand inside the thick coat and felt the
heart. It was beating but slowly, and her hands were cold. He clasped her
to him and rubbed the face with snow, growling like an animal in pain as
the hideous uproar continued.

She had nearly fainted; but another hour of this poisonous incarceration
and she would never recover. He dare not attempt to get to the fresher
air. Outside it was certain death, and any moment might assist the wind in
carrying out the task it seemed so determined to perform.... A piercing
wind suddenly entered, and the whole mass quivered. He realized that the
worst was about to happen--the snow was moving. Before he could fix on his
mittens the snow and its two inmates were flung like a rifle-shot across
the ice. There was a thundering roar, and the whole pile broke into a
myriad parts. Still clasping the unconscious Angela, he went
helter-skelter before the blast, pitching and sliding on the ice. The
power to think was leaving him. Brain and body seemed numbed and out of
action. He was only conscious that he held in his arms the thing from
which not even this murderous wind could sever him. He calmly waited for
the end--the dreamy, painless end that freezing death would bring....

Then he suddenly gave vent to a choking cry of joy. The wind had suddenly,
marvelously vanished. He heard it howling its way across the land to the
South. He dragged himself from the ice and looked back. The Aurora was
flashing again and the sky was clear. The strange Arctic light was
settling down on the scene, turning the snow-clad waste into mysterious
colors. He rubbed his frost-bitten hands vigorously with snow and hurried
up the river with Angela clasped in his arms.

He found the sled overturned, some distance from where he had left it, and
hurriedly rigged up the tent on a suitable place on the bank. In a few
minutes he had Angela inside, on a pile of blankets, and was forcing
brandy between her lips. Seeing that she was reviving, he lit the oil
stove and went to round up the dog-team.

When he returned Angela was boiling the kettle on top of the stove. She
handed him a cup of cocoa in silence. He took it without attempting to
drink it. Her extraordinary recovery amazed him.

"Is it all over?" she queried ultimately.