frosty air had no effect upon them, save to make
their blood tingle in their veins and a peculiar, pricking sensation
play about their nostrils as they drew their breath, tiny needles of ice
twining as they respired, and making a hoar-frost upon Bracy's
moustache.

The time went on as if the movement of the earth had been checked by the
frost; but, listen as they would, the silence was profound, and a full
hour seemed to have passed, though it was not a fourth part of that
time.

"They will not come," thought Bracy, as his eyes were turned in every
direction he could force them to sweep, and the change appeared very
striking from the black atmosphere in front, and right and left to the
faint light suggestive of electricity or phosphorescence which made the
snow dimly visible.

But the enemy made no sign: and, with that horrible stillness as of
death reigning and seeming to crush them into the snow, they lay waiting
and longing for some sound--for the coming of the enemy; for the wild
excitement of an encounter would, Bracy felt, be far preferable to that
maddening suspense.

As he lay there and thought, his ever-active brain was full of
suggestions regarding what would take place. The enemy would not dare
to come, and a night's sleep would have been lost--they would come, see
them with their penetrating eyes, pounce upon them, there would be a few
savage unexpected strokes, and all would be over; while poor Colonel
Graves would watch and wait, looking ever for the succour that did not
come.

"But he will not lose faith in his messengers," Bracy thought, with a
thrill of satisfaction running through him. "He will know that I strove
to do my best."

Then his thoughts took another direction. Why should not--after the
careful preparations made--the _ruse_ be successful, the enemy be
deceived, and go in pursuit according to their ideas, leaving the two
adventurers free to make their fresh departure? But that, the most
natural outcome of the plan, Bracy, in his excitement, set aside as
being the least likely to occur, and he lay in agony, straining every
nerve to condense his faculties into the one great sense of hearing,
till it seemed to him that his companion's breathing sounded
preternaturally loud.

"Why, he's asleep! The miserable, careless scoundrel!" thought Bracy.
"Those men have no thought beyond the present. How can one trust them?
How easily we might be surprised if he were the watch!"

A flush