d out of view in the forest when
with a sudden sharp command Josephine stopped the dogs. She sprang out
of her furs and stood laughingly beside Philip.

"Father always insists that I ride. He says it's not good for a woman
to run," she said. "But I do. I love to run. There!"

As she spoke she had thrown her outer coat on the sledge, and stood
before him, straight and slim. Her hair was in a long braid.

"Now, are you ready?" she challenged.

"Good Lord, have mercy on me!" gasped Philip. "You look as if you might
fly, Josephine!"

Her signal to the dogs was so low he scarcely heard it, and they sped
along the white and narrow trail into which Josephine had directed
them. Philip fell in behind her. It had always roused a certain sense
of humour in him to see a woman run. But in Josephine he saw now the
swiftness and lithesome grace of a fawn. Her head was thrown back, her
mittened hands were drawn up to her breast as the forest man runs, and
her shining braid danced and rippled in the early sun with each quick
step she took.

Ahead of her the gray and yellow backs of the dogs rose and fell with a
rhythmic movement that was almost music. Their ears aslant, their
crests bristling, their bushy tails curling like plumes over their
hips, they responded with almost automatic precision to the low words
that fell from the lips of the girl behind them.

With each minute that passed Philip wondered how much longer Josephine
could keep up the pace. They had run fully a mile and his own breath
was growing shorter when the toe of his moccasined foot caught under a
bit of brushwood and he plunged head foremost into the snow. When he
had brushed the snow out of his eyes and ears Josephine was standing
over him, laughing. The dogs were squatted on their haunches, looking
back.

"My poor Philip!" she laughed, offering him an assisting hand. "We
almost lost you, didn't we? It was Captain who missed you first, and he
almost toppled me over the sled!"

Her face was radiant. Lips, eyes, and cheeks were glowing. Her breast
rose and fell quickly.

"It was your fault!" he accused her. "I couldn't keep my eyes off you,
and never thought of my feet. I shall have my revenge--here!"

He drew her into his arms, protesting. Not until he had kissed her
parted, half-smiling lips did he release her.

"I'm going to ride now," she declared. "I'm not going to run the danger
of being accused again."

He wrapped her again in the furs on the t