with flying snow.

Gradually as the air cleared he saw that a new world, indeed, lay before
them. "Look, look, Pearl," he cried, hoping to rouse her from her state
of blind fright. "It has been an avalanche and it is over now."

"No, no," she moaned, and buried her head more deeply in his shoulder.
"I dare not look up. It will come again."

"No, it doesn't happen twice. It is over now and we are safe and the
cabin is safe."

And yet, in spite of himself, he sympathized with her fear more than he
would have admitted either to himself or her. Anything seemed possible
to him now. He had looked upon a miracle. He had seen those immutable
peaks, as stable as Time, bend and bow in their strange, cosmic dance,
for the change in the position of one had created the illusory effect of
a change in all.

"Come, look up, Pearl," he urged. "It is all over and everything is
changed. Look up and get accustomed to it."

Everything was indeed changed. For a few yards before the cabin his path
with its white, smooth walls was intact, but beyond that lay an
incredibly smooth expanse of bare earth. The road was obliterated; the
vast projecting rock ledges which had overshadowed it had disappeared.
They had all been razed or else uprooted like the rocks and trees and
carried on in that irresistible rush. The light poured baldly down upon
a hillside bare and blank and utterly featureless. But far down the road
where the bridge had spanned the cañon there rose a vast white mountain,