nce faced him still. He had solved it up
here. His cabin was warm, he was full-fed; the squaw grubbed his living
for him out of the frozen forests. He did not want to be forced to face
the competition of civilized existence again. He was dirty, care-free;
his furs supplied food and clothes for him and certain rags for her, and
filled his cupboard with strong drink. He remembered that the girl had
had no money, and that he had come first to the North to find gold. If
he had succeeded, if his poke were heavy with the yellow metal, he could
go back to his city and take up his old life anew, but he couldn't begin
at the bottom. With wealth at his command he might even find a more
desirable woman than Virginia: perhaps the years had changed her even as
himself. There was no need of dreaming further about the matter. Only
one course, considering the circumstances, lay before him.

"You're very kind," he said at last. "But I won't go. Tell her you
didn't find me."

Bill straightened and sighed. "Make no mistake about that, Lounsbury,"
he answered. "You're going with me--" and then he spoke softly, a pause
between each word--"if I have to drag you there through the snow. I
was told to bring you back, and I'm going to do it."

"You are, eh?" Harold scowled and tried to find courage to attack this
man again. Yet his muscles hung limp, and he couldn't even raise his
eyes to meet those that looked so steadfastly at him now.

"Sindy can go home to Buckshot Dan. He'll take her back--you stole
her from him. And you, Lounsbury, rotten as you are, are coming with
me. God knows I hope she'll drive you from her door; but I'm going to
bring you, just the same."

Harold's eyes glowed, and for the moment his brain was too busy with
other considerations openly to resent the words. Then his face grew
cunning. It was all plain enough: Bill loved Virginia himself. Through
some code of ethics that was almost incredible to Harold, he was willing
to sacrifice his own happiness for hers. And the way to pay for the
rough treatment he had just had, treatment that he couldn't, at present
at least, avenge in kind, was to win the girl away from him. The thing
was already done. She loved him enough to search even the frozen realms
of the North for him: simply by a little tenderness, a little care, he
could command her to love to the full again. The fact that Bill wanted
her made her infinitely more desirable to him.

"You w