d defeat
would have been certain. But all these factors would have been
unavailing except for the fighting spirit that her appeal to him had
awakened and which she had found, full-grown, in her own soul.

They mused up to the cabin, and Harold stared at them like a lifeless
thing as Bill reeled through the doorway. Virginia led him to her own
cot, then drew the blankets over him. And she was not so exhausted but
that she could continue the fight for his recovery.

"Build up the fire, and do it quickly," she ordered Harold. Her tone
was terse, commanding, and curiously he leaped to obey her. She removed
Bill's snow-covered garments, and as Harold went out to procure more
fuel she put water on the stove to heat. Then, procuring snow, she
began to rub Bill's right hand, the hand that had been frozen in his
effort to grope for the trail. Quick and hard work was needed to save
it.

Harold came to her aid, but she put him to other work. She wanted to do
this task herself. Then she aroused the woodsman from his half-sleep to
give him coffee, cup after cup of it that used up the last of their
meager supply.

It is one of the peculiar faculties of the human body to recover quickly
from the effects of severe cold. Even coupled with exhaustion his
hardships had wrought no lasting organic injury, and the magnificent
recuperative powers of Bill's tough body came quickly to his aid. About
midnight he wakened from a long sleep, wholly clear-headed and free from
pain. Wet bandages were over his eyes.

He groped and in a moment found Virginia's hands. But an instant he
held them only; it was enough to know that she was near. He realized
that he was out of danger now: such tenderness as she had given him must
be forgotten. She was still sitting beside his bed, wrapped in a
blanket.

He started to get up so that she could have her own cot; but she wakened
at his motions. Gently she pushed him down.

"But I'm all right now," he told her. "I'm sleepy--and sore--but
I'm strong as ever. Let me go to my bed, and get some sleep."

"No. I'm not sleepy yet."

But the dull tones of her voice--even thought Bill could not see the
white fatigue in her face--belied her words. Bill laughed, the same
gay laugh that had cheered her so many times, and swung his feet to the
floor. "It's my turn to be nurse--now," he told her. "Get in quick."

"But I've had Harold bring some blankets here and spread them on the
floor," she