running. The
pack horses, however, hadn't left their tracks. And now the brave
Mulvaney had gained the shore and was standing motionless, gazing out
over the troubled waters. No man might guess the substance of his
thoughts. He scarcely glanced at the two men.

They unpacked the animals, and by scraping off the snow and by the aid
of the keen ax and a candle-stub soon lighted a fire. To satisfy the
feeble voice of his conscience Lounsbury himself cut wood to make it
blaze high. They made their coffee and cooked an abundant meal.

They stretched the tent in the evergreen thicket, and after supper they
sat in its mouth in the glow of the fire. Its crackle drowned out the
voices of the wilderness about them,--such accusations as the Red Gods
pour out upon the unworthy. And for all their shelter they were
wretched and terrified, crushed by the might of the wilderness about
them,--futile things that were the scorn of even the beasts.

"Of course we'll never find the bodies," Lounsbury suggested at last.

"No chance, that I can see. The winter's come to stay. We won't be
able to get any men from Bradleyburg to help us look for 'em. They
couldn't get through the snow."

"You think--" Lounsbury's voice wavered, "you think--we can get back
all right ourselves?"

"Sure. That is, if we start first thing to-morrow. There's a clear
trail through the snow most of the way--our own trail, comin' out.
But it will be hard goin' and not safe to wait."

"Then I suppose--the horses will be sent down below, because of the
snow. That's another reason why they can't even search for the bodies."

"Yes. Of course they may float down to the Yuga and be seen somewhere
by the Indians. But not much chance."

They lighted their pipes, and the horror of the tragedy began slowly to
pass from them. The blinding snow and the cold and their own discomfort
occupied all their thoughts. There was only one ray of light,--that
in the morning they could turn back out of the terrible wilderness, down
toward the cities of men.

They didn't try to sleep. The snow and the cold and the shrieking wind
made rest an impossibility. They did doze, however, between times that
they rose to cut more fuel for the fire. The hours seemed endless.

Darkness still lay over the river when they went again to their toil.
Lounsbury, himself offered to cook breakfast and tried to convince
himself the act entitled him to praise. In reality, he was onl