She stepped down into the packed snow at the base of the cliffs. Here she stood looking up and down the gorge for any sign of Benny or of the Italian or of any other of Brodie's crowd who might be alive and astir. But she saw no one; even Gratton's body, where it had been tumbled out into the snow, was hidden. She heard the deep, quiet breathing of the pines; the canon stream rushed and gurgled and babbled, shouting as it leaped over fails, flinging spray which the moonlight and starlight made over into jewels.
Gloria worked at her fuel-gathering, working in the snow until her hands and feet were nearly frozen. But her heart was warm. Though she made haste and was ever watchful and on the alert, her mind filled with such thoughts as had never come trooping into it before. Fragmentary, they were like bright bits spinning about a common centre. She looked up at the wide sky and it was borne in upon her that the universe was mighty and wonderful and infinite; she looked into her own heart and saw where she had been small and silly and finite. She saw that the snow-covered ridges stretching endlessly were like a concrete symbol of that infinity which extended above and about her; that they were clothed in beauty. She knew that when Mark King was made whole again and had forgiven her and they stood together, hand locked in hand, she would have no fear any more for his mountains, but rather a great, abiding love. She saw that her life had been empty; that only love could fill it, love and service such as she was rendering to-night.
Pretty clothes, dress suits, did not matter, and strong, loyal hearts did matter. To-night she would rather have Mark King hold her in his arms and say "I love you" than to have all of the red gold in all of the world.
Three times that night she made the trip up and down the cliffs, bringing wood. At the end, though near exhaustion, she sank down by the fire for but a few minutes. The bear meat was boiling and bubbling; she poured off a little of the broth, cooled it, and then, as she had given King the coffee, she forced some of the strong soup between his teeth. She touched his cheek and dared hope that it was not so icy cold; she chafed his feet and wrapped them again in a not blanket. And then, with all of her covers given to him, she drew a coat about her shoulders and sat down at his side, on the edge of his blankets. And here, throughout the night, she sat, dozing and waking, rising again and again to keep the fire burning.