She glanced around uncertainly; then understood. The saddle was on
Trixy still. But Trixy was dead, and she did not like the idea of
touching her. She hesitated just the length of time required for an
unpleasant smile to twist Haig's lips. She saw it, and her face
flamed with shame. A fine start she was making! And it was only a dead
horse! She walked resolutely to the prostrate body, hurriedly untied
the roll of blankets, and returned running.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she cried, as she unrolled the bundle. "A cup! A pan!
And bacon and bread! And matches."

"Murray," said Haig.

"Yes, I know. Mrs. Murray told me, but I'd forgotten."

She ran to the stream, and brought him a cupful of water; and another;
and while he drank the second, she picked up his revolver, and carried
it to a stone fully as far away as it had been when he crawled for it.
He was on the point of calling her back, but thought better of it; to
have done that would only have confirmed her suspicions.

"Now then, sir!" she began. "Your leg."

"What about it?"

"We've got to set it."

"That's absurd!"

"Why is it absurd?"

"You can't do it, in the first place."

"But I can. I've seen my father do it."

"It won't heal--in the fix we're in."

"We'll do our best," she rejoined bravely.

"Listen!" he said, with some sternness. "If it should knit, which I
doubt, it will take six weeks or two months before I can use it. Do
you know what will happen before two months--before one month--before
two weeks, even?"

She only looked at him questioningly.

"Snow!" he said shortly.

She could find no answer, unless it were an answer that she dared not
give him--yet.

"Well, then!" he said, with an air of finality. "You can't start
to-night, of course. It's too late, and there's a storm going up there
besides. But to-morrow morning--" He looked up at the cliff and
frowned. "Perhaps Tuesday can make it. If he balks, you've got to do
it on foot. The mountain let you pass once. Maybe it will spare you
again. Maybe! God knows! But it's your only chance. I'm done for, and
can't help you. It's sure death for you to stay here. It's sure death
to try the trail into the Black Lake country. You have just one
chance. You've got to take it to-morrow morning. And God help you for
being such a fool!"

She heard him through, and smiled; and he noted, for his own
information, that this smile of hers was getting on his nerves. What
did she mean by it? There was something