their home.

The snow fell that night; a silent, irresistible mountain snow-storm,
without a breath of wind, in flakes as big as a tennis-ball. Down they
ambled, seeming to loiter in indolent playfulness on the way. And up,
up, mounted the earth's white carpet, thicker and thicker, softer and
softer. And at daylight the men confronted eight feet of snow, through
which they had to dig their way. They cleared the dugout that their
priceless treasure, the wondrous creature who had come to them, might
see the light of day. And as they laboured the snow continued to fall;
and at night. The next day, and the next, they cleared while the forest
below was being slowly buried, and all the world about them seemed to be
choked with the gentle horror.

But Ralph and his brother, Nick, feared nothing. They loved the labour;
for was it not on behalf of the beautiful White Squaw?

CHAPTER VI.

THE WEIRD OF THE WILD

For five days the snow fell without ceasing. Then the weather cleared
and the sun shone forth, and the temperature, which had risen while the
ghostly snow filled the air, dropped with a rush many degrees below
zero.

Again the call of the forest came to the two men, claiming them as it
ever claims those who are bred to the craft of trap and fur; and for the
first time in their lives, the call was hearkened to by unwilling ears,
ears which sought to turn from the alluring cry, ears that craved only
for the seductive tones of love. But habit was strong upon these
woodsmen, and they obeyed the voice which had always ruled their lives,
although with the skeleton of rebellion in their hearts.

The days passed, and March, the worst month of the mountain winter, was
rapidly nearing; and with it a marked change came over the routine of
the Westleys' home. Hitherto Ralph and Nick were accustomed to carry out
their work singly, each scouring the woodlands and valleys in a
direction which was his alone, each making his own bag of furs, which,
in the end, would be turned over to the partnership; but Aim-sa joined
them in their hunting, and, somehow, it came about that the men found it
necessary to work together.

They no longer parted at daybreak to meet again when the stealing night
shades fell. It became the custom for a party of three to set out from
the hut, and the skilled trappers found themselves willingly deferring
to a woman in the details of their craft, the craft of which they were
acknowledged masters.