ed his pipe and stared moodily into
the tiny fire.

The two spent a most uncomfortable night, their brief snatches of sleep
being interrupted by long hours of wakefulness when they huddled close
to the small blaze.

The scarcity of wood and the danger of suffocation precluded the
building of an adequate fire, and the miserable night wore interminably
upon the nerves of the imprisoned pair.

At last the dull gray light of morning dispersed the gloom, and the two
crept to the snow-choked door.

The storm raged unabated, and their eyes could not penetrate the opaque
whiteness of the powdery snow. Bill gathered more firewood, cut up the
lynx, and roasted the hams, shoulders, and back.

The meat was dry and stringy, with a disagreeable, strong flavor that
savored intimately of the rancid odor of the den. Nevertheless, they
devoured a great quantity of the tough, unpalatable food, washing it
down with bitter drafts from the pool of dirty snow-water, thick with
ashes and the pungent animal reek.

Again the man filled his pipe and sat gazing out upon the whirling
void.

"Bill, let's try it," said a voice at his elbow. "She's waiting for
us--and worrying."

Carmody glanced quickly into the determined little face. The boy had
voiced his own thoughts to the letter, and he remained long without
speaking, carefully weighing the chances.

"It's better than staying here," pursued the youngster; "'Cause, if we
don't snufficate, we'll starve to death, or freeze. We can tie us to
each other so we won't get lost, and all we got to do is stick to the
river. I can make it if you can," he added naively.

Bill grinned, and then his eyes became serious and he began
methodically to stow the remains of the roast cat into his pockets.

"It's going to be an awful pull, kid. You are a man, now, and I'll give
it to you straight--maybe we'll make it, and maybe we won't. But I'd
hate to 'snufficate'--and she _is_ worrying. We'll try it--and God help
us, if we don't keep the river."

The skin of the lynx was cut into strips and fashioned into a rawhide
line which Bill made fast to their belts, leaving plenty of slack to
allow free use of the rackets. The rifle was left in the cave, and,
muffled to the ears, the two stepped out into the storm.

Bill judged it to be well after noon when a sudden tightening of the
line brought him to an abrupt halt.

Many times during the long hours in which they forged slowly ahead had
the line gone ta