She knew that when Mark King was made whole again and had forgiven her and they stood together, hand locked in hand, she would have no fear any more for his mountains, but rather a great, abiding love.  She saw that her life had been empty; that only love could fill it, love and service such as she was rendering to-night.  Pretty clothes, dress suits, did not matter, and strong, loyal hearts did matter.  To-night she would rather have Mark King hold her in his arms and say “I love you” than to have all of the red gold in all of the world.

Three times that night she made the trip up and down the cliffs, bringing wood.  At the end, though near exhaustion, she sank down by the fire for but a few minutes.  The bear meat was boiling and bubbling; she poured off a little of the broth, cooled it, and then, as she had given King the coffee, she forced some of the strong soup between his teeth.  She touched his cheek and dared hope that it was not so icy cold; she chafed his feet and wrapped them again in a not blanket.  And then, with all of her covers given to him, she drew a coat about her shoulders and sat down at his side, on the edge of his blankets.  And here, throughout the night, she sat, dozing and waking, rising again and again to keep the fire burning.

She started up to find it full day; she had been asleep, her head against his knee.  The fire was dying down; she jumped up and replenished it, setting the broth back among the coals.  King lay as he had lain last night; his continued coma was like a profound quiet sleep.  He was very pale, and yet certainly not paler than when she had first looked upon his blood-smeared face.

She went to the canvas screen and looked out.  The sun was shining.  And oh, the glory of the sun after these long dark days!  The sky was a deep, serene, perfect blue.  The snow shone and glittered and sparkled everywhere.  Down in the gorge she saw a little bird in quick flight.  It skimmed the water; it Lighted on a rock in the spray; it put back its head and seemed to be bursting with a joy of song.  A water-ouzel!  A friend from out a happy past——­To Gloria it seemed that the world was full of promise.

All day long she ministered to King, going back and forth tirelessly, since love and hope inspired every step she made.  None of Brodie’s men had come; she felt a strange confidence that they would not come.  They were afraid of King as jackals are afraid of a lion; further, they did not know that he was wounded.  She thought little of them, having much else to think of.  She wound King’s watch, guessing at the time; she judged it sensible to force a little nourishment upon him at regular intervals and brought him his broth every two hours.

At a little before noon Gloria, stooping over the fire, started erect and whirled about.  King’s eyes were open!  She ran to him, dropping on her knees beside him, catching up his hand, whispering: 

“Mark!  Oh, Mark—­thank God!”