with you. I am happier where I am."

But Messner did not believe. He remembered her facility in
changing front. She had changed front now. It was exploitation by
indirection. She was not happy with the other man. She had
discovered her mistake. The flame of his ego flared up at the
thought. She wanted to come back to him, which was the one thing
he did not want. Unwittingly, his hand rattled the door-latch.

"Don't run away," she laughed. "I won't bite you."

"I am not running away," he replied with child-like defiance, at
the same time pulling on his mittens. "I'm only going to get some
water."

He gathered the empty pails and cooking pots together and opened
the door. He looked back at her.

"Don't forget you're to tell Mr. - er - Haythorne who I am."

Messner broke the skin that had formed on the water-hole within the
hour, and filled his pails. But he did not return immediately to
the cabin. Leaving the pails standing in the trail, he walked up
and down, rapidly, to keep from freezing, for the frost bit into
the flesh like fire. His beard was white with his frozen breath
when the perplexed and frowning brows relaxed and decision came
into his face. He had made up his mind to his course of action,
and his frigid lips and cheeks crackled into a chuckle over it.
The pails were already skinned over with young ice when he picked
them up and made for the cabin.