de.

For an hour or so he slept the sleep of unconsciousness. In the room not
a sound could be heard, but outside the storm still roared and raged. It
was anything but an easy or cheerful situation: Here she was alone with
a wounded, if not dying, man; and she well knew that, unless there came
an abatement in the fury of the storm, it might be days before anyone
could climb the mountain. True, the Indians were not far off, but like
as not they would remain in their wigwam until the sun came forth again.
In the matter of food there was a scant supply, but probably enough to
tide them over until communication could be had with The Polka.

For three days she watched over him, and all the time the storm
continued. On the third day he became delirious, and that was the night
of her torture. Despite a feeling that she was taking an unfair
advantage of him, the Girl strained her ears to catch a name which, in
his delirium, was constantly on his lips; but she could not make it out.
All that she knew was that it was not her name that he spoke, and it
pained her. She had given him absolute faith and trust and, already, she
was overwhelmed with the fierce flames of jealousy. It was a new
sensation, this being jealous of anyone, and it called forth a
passionate resentment. In such moments she would rise and flee to the
other end of the room until the whispered endearments had ceased. Then
she would draw near again with flushes of shame on her cheeks for having
heeded the sayings of an irresponsible person, and she would take his
head in her lap and, caressing him the while, would put cold towels on
his heated brow.

Dawn of the fourth day saw the Girl still pale and anxious, though
despair had entirely left her; for the storm was over and colour and
speech had come back to the man early that morning. Love and good
nursing, not to speak of some excellent whisky that she happened to have
stored away in her cabin, had pulled him through. With a sigh of relief
she threw herself down on the rug for a much-needed rest.

The man woke just before the sun rose. His first thought, that he was
home in the foothills, was dissipated by the sight of the snow ranges.
Through the window of the cabin, as far as the eye could see, nothing of
green was visible. Snow was everywhere; everything was white, save at
the eastern horizon where silver was fast changing into rose and rose to
a fiery red as the fast-rising sun sent its shafts over the snow-