wearied watching them as they loped forward. Added to this, was the presence of the man who had avowed his love the day before. Although she could not see his face, she could feel his presence as he towered above her at his watchful task of directing the sled. His right hand held the whip, but only when the wheel-dog lagged would the lash split the air like a pistol shot. There was little chance for conversation. The lovers were happy, so words did not signify.
They had made good progress the previous afternoon, and had reached the little road-house at the Forks, about twenty miles from Kynox, several hours after dark. Here they had spent the night, and were up and on their way early in the morning. From here to Big Chance the only stopping-place was a police patrol-house. This was free to prospectors, miners, and other travellers, with the distinct understanding that no damage was to be done, and if they were forced to use any of the provisions stored there they were to report it to the police as soon as possible. This was a strict law, and it was always obeyed to the letter.
At first Sergeant North hoped to make Big Chance without stopping at the patrol-house. He could not afford the delay if they were to reach their destination that night. But when the storm came upon them just after they had eaten their frugal meal in the shelter of a little clump of trees, he was forced to give up the idea of gaining the mining camp that night. They would do well to reach the patrol-house.
They were passing through a wooded region when the snow began to fall, and it dropped gently and harmlessly upon their bodies. The flakes were small, easily brushed aside, and in no wise interfered with their progress. But the roaring of the wind overhead
