from the spongy moss.

The moon rose at length, seemingly shedding its light over the
desolate spot out of pity. Again Alice Thayor lay awake until long
past midnight. The very desolation fascinated her. Again she thought
of Sperry, and again her face flamed with indignation--in fact, he
had seldom been clear of her mind, try as she might to banish him.
She wondered if he would have roughed it with the grit her husband
had shown. Not once had Sam complained. This, in itself, was a
revelation--she who had dared to complain of everything that thwarted
her comfort or her plans. Nor had he once failed in all the hours of
their long tramp to look after her comfort as best he could. With all
this his heavy pack had been badly balanced, so much so that he had
been obliged to stop now and then to re-pad the ropes cutting under
his armpits with moss--Holcomb helping him--the straps rescued from
three charred pack-baskets being reserved for the heavier loads of the
Clown, the trapper, and Holcomb.

As these things developed in her mind another feeling arose in her
heart: a feeling of pride in the man trudging on ahead of her--pride
in his pluck, in his patience, in his cheeriness, and last, in his
bodily strength, for to her great surprise her husband proved to be
stronger than Blakeman and the match of Holcomb. She had not believed
this possible.

At dawn she fell asleep, awaking with a violent headache. She felt as
if she had been beaten; every bone in her body ached; her cheeks were
burning; her hands were like ice. She shuddered now in a chill, yet
she crawled deeper into her blanket and called no one. All through the
cold of the early dawn she suffered intensely--shivering with cold and
burning with fever, by turns. She dare not move lest she might wake
Margaret or Sam. Toward morning her legs grew warm; the old dog had
lain across them. Then she fell into a troubled sleep.

When she regained consciousness two days had elapsed. She saw dimly
that the rest were at breakfast. It was raining. The old dog again
lay across her feet; he was hungry, but he had not moved through the
night. She tried to sit up, but the trees danced in front of her.
Margaret and Thayor started toward her.

"You've slept so well, mother," she could hear Margaret saying; "you
feel better, don't you?" Thayor was on his knees beside her--he put
his arm under her shoulders and placed a tin cup to her lips.

"Come, dear--drink this"--she heard his v