her that of such a love he had built for himself the visions which had
kept him alive in his loneliness. She looked pathetically like a
child.

"Come, little girl," he said. "We'll go on. I'll see you safely on
your way to the Little Seul. You mustn't go alone. You'd never reach
your people alive. My God, if I were he--"

He stopped at the frightened look in the white face she lifted to him.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing-- only it's hard for a man to die and lose a woman like you,"
said MacVeigh. "There-- let me lift you up on the box."

"The dogs cannot pull the load," she objected. "I have helped them--"

"If they can't, I can," he laughed, softly; and with a quick movement
he picked her up and seated her on the sledge. He stripped off his
pack and placed it behind her, and then he gave her his rifle. The
woman looked straight at him with a tense, white face as she placed
the weapon across her lap.

"You can shoot me if I don't do my duty," said MacVeigh. He tried to
hide the happiness that came to him in this companionship of woman,
but it trembled in his voice. He stopped suddenly, listening.

"What was that?"

"I heard nothing," said the woman. Her face was deadly white. Her eyes