bee remained at Scenic Springs, it was not probable she had
strayed far from the comfort and safety of the hotel. And recalling that
night she had passed in the Wenatchee mountains, he smiled.

As twilight fell, a ruddy illumination outlined the ridge. He conjectured
that the men he had heard early in the afternoon in the vicinity of the
first slide were a party of belated hunters, who had camped in the upper
canyon. They must have known of the greater avalanche; possibly of the
disaster. They may have sent a messenger to the Springs and kindled this
beacon to guide any one who might choose this way to bring the news from
the portal. At least they would be able to direct him to the shortest out;
serve him the cup of coffee of which he was in need. So, coming to the end
of the ridge where the canyons met, he turned in the direction of the
fire, and found--two waiting women.

Their presence alone was an explanation. Mrs. Feversham had only to say
Lucky Banks had led their party, in the ascent of the peak that brilliant
morning, and instantly everything was clear to Tisdale. The voice he had
heard from the top of the ridge was not an illusion. She had called him.

"It was snowing," he said, interrupting the story, "but if they left the
shadow of a trail, Banks found it. There are two of them, though, and up
there--it's cold." Then, having gone a few steps, he remembered the child
and came back to put him in Elizabeth's arms. "His father and mother are
dead," he explained briefly, "but he hasn't a bruise. When he wakes, he is
going to be hungry."

So, forgetting those wearing hours of rescue work, and without the coffee
for which he had intended to ask, he started on the prospector's trail. In
a little while, as he skirted the foot of the slide, he heard a great
commotion on the slope beyond. It was Lucky Banks easing his human
toboggan down the last pitch to the canyon floor.

The two men stood a silent moment scanning each other in the uncertain
light across that load. Tisdale's eyes were searching for an answer to the
question he could not ask, but the prospector, breathing hard, was trying
to cover the emotion Tisdale's unexpected appearance had roused.

"Hello, Hollis," he said at last. "Is that you? I had to see after Dave's
wife, but I thought likely, when I got her to camp, I'd take a little hike
up to the tunnel and look you up."

But Tisdale, not finding the answer for which he looked, sank to his knee
besid