furnace-windows, were closed.

Joan waited for the end to come. The afternoon passed and she did
not leave the cabin. It was possible that he might come to and want
water. She had once administered to a miner who had been fatally
crushed in an avalanche; and never could forget his husky call for
water and the gratitude in his eyes.

Sunset, twilight, and night fell upon the canon. And she began to
feel solitude as something tangible. Bringing saddle and blankets
into the cabin, she made a bed just inside, and, facing the opening
and the stars, she lay down to rest, if not to sleep. The darkness
did not keep her from seeing the prostrate figure of Kells. He lay
there as silent as if he were already dead. She was exhausted, weary
for sleep, and unstrung. In the night her courage fled and she was
frightened at shadows. The murmuring of insects seemed augmented
into a roar; the mourn of wolf and scream of cougar made her start;
the rising wind moaned like a lost spirit. Dark fancies beset her.
Troop on troop of specters moved out of the black night, assembling
there, waiting for Kells to join them. She thought she was riding
homeward over the back trail, sure of her way, remembering every rod
of that rough travel, until she got out of the mountains, only to be
turned back by dead men. Then fancy and dream, and all the haunted
gloom of canon and cabin, seemed slowly to merge into one immense
blackness.

The sun, rimming the east wall, shining into Joan's face, awakened
her. She had slept hours. She felt rested, stronger. Like the night,
something dark had passed away from her. It did not seem strange to
her that she should feel that Kells still lived. She knew it. And