will could stop an avalanche by refusing to heed the law of the
snowflake!


Calamity, the little withered half-breed woman, slipped in and out of
the Forester's cabin tidying up bachelor confusion. The wind suffed
through the evergreens in dream voices, pansy-soft to the touch. The
slow-swaying evergreens rocked to a rhythm old as Eternity, Druid
priests standing guard over the sacrament of love and night. From the
purpling Valley came the sibilant hush of the River. Somewhere, from
the branches below the Ridge, a water thrush gurgled a last joyous note
that rippled liquid gold through the twilight.

Life might have become the tent of a night in an Eternity--a tent of
sky hung with stars; the after-glow a topaz gate ajar into some
infinite life. Then Love and Silence and Eternity had wrapped them
round as in a robe of prayer. He was standing above the dead
camp-fire. She was leaning forward from the slab seat, her face
between her hands. With a catch of breath, she withdrew her eyes from
his and watched the long shadows creep like ghosts across the Valley.

What he said aloud in the nonchalant voice of twentieth century youth
keeping hold of himself was--

"Not bad, is it?" nodding at the opal flame-winged peak. "Pretty good
show turned on free every night?"

A meadow lark went lifting above the Ridge dropping silver arrows of
song; and a little flutter of phantom wind came rustling through the
pine needles.