It was a long time before consecutive thought returned to him.  And it brought him only increased bitterness.  Gloria had said that she would die here rather than have him lead her to safety.  Well, he did not blame her for that.  Rather, he told himself grimly, he honoured her for it.  And yet, now more than ever, his and his alone was the responsibility of seeing that she went clear of this wretched existence into which he had stubbornly led her.  He could not take her away against her will; he could not pick her up in his arms and carry her over a two or three days’ journey!  Nor could he entrust her to the only other human beings who were near enough for her to go to.  What could he do?  She would perish without help; hence he must help her.  But how?

There was but one possible answer, and in due course of time he came to see it clearly.  He must leave her, get back the shortest, quickest way to civilization, and send other men, trustworthy men, in for her.  It could be done even though the storm continued.  He could get a dog-team, Alaskan huskies, to be had in Truckee; he could load sledges with provisions; he could put the right man in charge and then lead the way.  That would mean several days alone for Gloria; but what else was there?

And even that solution depended upon the consideration which by now was the elemental, all-essential thing; first he must find some sort of provisions with which to eke out their small supply.  There was not enough in camp to sustain him while he battled with the storm for a way out and to sustain strength in her while she waited.  He must first replenish the larder; otherwise they died.  He must get fish in plenty or a bear or a deer.  He looked at the grey, ominous sky, at the piling snow, and the chill of the wilderness struck to his heart.  But at last his eyes grew hard again with determination.

In a distressed mental condition in which the only solid ground beneath him was his determination to do to the uttermost that lay within him for Gloria, he broke into mutterings, voicing aloud fragments of speech, forcing himself toward steadiness of forward-driving purpose.

“I’ve got to leave her....  She won’t go with me.  That means I’ve got to leave with her every scrap of food we have between us.  I can go two days without eating....  I can!  A man, if he’s half a man, can finish his work before he buckles under....  Her one danger is Brodie.  Otherwise she would be safe enough for four or five days.  She’s got to stick close to the cave; she must not dare to set foot outside....

“But that’s not enough; they might come to the cave....  The way in is not overwide; would they see it from below?  They don’t know where it is or they would have done as I did; they would have come to it for shelter....  No, they don’t know of it.  Can I close up the entrance, somehow, so that they won’t find it?  There are loose rocks in there....  If they do