with a futile napping of stiff wings, towards the two
human figures. It was Lucky Banks, come to rescue them.

A heavier blast threw him on his face, but he rose to his knees and,
creeping close, squared his shoulders to protect the slighter body. At the
same time the significance of the position of Morganstein's unconscious
bulk struck him. "You rat!" he cried with smothered fury. "You damn
rat!"

Then he caught up a handful of snow with which he began to rub the woman's
face. Afterwards he removed her gloves to manipulate her cold hands. He
worked swiftly, with the deftness of practice, but the results were slow,
and presently he took the rug from the pack he carried and covered her
while he felt in Frederic's pockets for the flask he had neglected to
return. "Likely there wasn't a drop left when she came to need it, you
brute. And I'd like to leave you here to take your chances. You can thank
your luck I've got to use you."

Banks keyed his voice high, between breaths, to out-scale the wind, but he
did not wait for a reply. Before he finished speaking, he had opened his
big, keen-bladed clasp-knife and commenced to cut broad strips from the
rug. He passed some of these, not without effort, under Morganstein's
body, trussing the arms. Then, wrapping the smaller figure snugly in the
blanket, he lifted it on to the human toboggan he had made and bound it
securely. Finally he converted the shoulder-straps of his pack into a sort
of steering gear, to which he fastened his life-line.

These preparations had been quickly made. It was not yet dark when he
worked this sled over the rim of the spur and began to descend the long
slope. The violence of the wind was broken there, so that he was able to
travel erect, drawing his load. After a while, when the flurry of snow had
passed, a crust formed on the surface, and in steeper pitches he was
obliged to let the toboggan forge ahead, using himself as a drag. With the
change to colder temperature, there was no further danger of slides, and
to avoid the avalanche that had turned Morganstein back, the prospector
shaped his course more directly into the canyon. Soon he was below the
clouds; between their ragged edges a few stars appeared. Beyond a buttress
shone a ruddy illumination. Some firs stood against it darkly. It was the
fire Marcia and Elizabeth were watching at the place where he had cached
the surplus supplies that morning. It served as a beacon when the
crispness ceas