ne of fine hard snow tearing
above their heads like volleys of shot, and the force of the wind
reached them even in their shelter, bringing with it the flinty sting
of the snow-dust. Beyond them the black barren was filled with a dismal
moaning. Looking up, and yet seeing nothing in the darkness, Peter
understood where the weird shriekings and ghostly cries came from. It
was the wind whipping itself up the side and over the top of the dune.

Jolly Roger listened, hearing only the convulsive sweep of that mighty
force over a thousand miles of barren. And then came again one of those
brief intervals when the storm seemed to rest for a moment, and its
moaning grew less and less, until it was like the sound of giant chariot
wheels receding swiftly over the face of the earth. Then came the
silence--a few seconds of it--while in the north gathered swiftly the
whispering rumble of a still greater force.

And in this silence came once more a cry--a cry which Jolly Roger McKay
could no longer disbelieve, and close upon the cry the report of a
rifle. Again he could have sworn the voice was a woman's voice. As
nearly as he could judge it came from dead ahead, out of the chaos of
blackness, and in that direction he shouted an answer. Then he ran out
into the darkness, followed by Peter. Another avalanche of wind gathered
at their heels, driving them on like the crest of a flood. In the first
force of it Jolly Roger stumbled and fell to his knees, and in that
moment he saw very faintly the glow of his light at the opening in the
snow dune. A realization of his deadly peril if he lost sight of the
light flashed upon him. Again and again he called into the night. After
that, bowing his head in the fury of the storm, he plunged on deeper
into darkness.

A sudden wild thought seized upon his soul and thrilled him into
forgetfulness of the light and the snow-dune and his own safety. In the
heart of this mad world he had heard a voice. He no longer doubted it.
And the voice was a woman's voice! Could it be Nada? Was it possible she
had followed him after his flight, determined to find him, and share his
fate? His heart pounded. Who else, of all the women in the world,
could be following his trail across the Barrens--a thousand miles from
civilization? He began to shout her name. "Nada--Nada--Nada!" And hidden
in the gloom at his side Peter barked.

Storm and darkness swallowed them. The last faint gleam of the alcohol
lamp died out. J