"Yes," said Joan, "yes. I did mean to go away. But--but it's Pierre."

He bent and began to strap on her snowshoes. There was a fighting

brilliance in his eyes and a strange look of hurry about him that had

its effect on Joan. "It's Pierre no longer," said he. "What can you do

for him? What can he do for you? Be sensible, child. Come. Don't waste

time. There will be snow to-day."

In fact it was to-day. The moon had set and a gray dawn possessed the

world. It was not nearly so cold and the great range had vanished in a

bank of gray-black clouds moving steadily northward under a damp wind.

Joan looked at this one living creature with wide, fever-brightened

eyes.

"Come," said the man impatiently.

Joan bent her head and followed him across the snow.




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