“It’s too bad we couldn’t have a fire,” suggested the woman then.  “I’d make us something hot.”  The stove was there, rusted but still serviceable; available wood was scattered around.  But the man shook his bullet head.

After a trying time unfastening the frosted knots of the ropes that had bound the knapsack upon her back, she emptied it onto the table.  She kept her eye, however, on the gun.  He had disposed of it by thrusting it into his belt.  Plainly she would never recover it without a struggle.  And she was in no condition for physical conflict.

“You’re welcome to anything I have,” she told him.

“Little you got to say about it!  If you hadn’t given it up, I’d took it away from you.  So what’s the difference?”

She shrugged her shoulders.  She started around behind him but he sprang toward her.

“Don’t try no monkey-shines with me!” he snarled.  “You stay here in front where I can see you.”

She obeyed, watching him make what poor meal he could from the contents of her bag.

She tried to reason out what the denouement of the situation was to be.  He would not send her away peacefully, for she knew he dared not risk the story she would tell regardless of any promises of secrecy she might give him.  If he left her bound in the cabin, she would freeze before help came—­if it ever arrived.

No, either they were going to leave the place and journey forth together—­the Lord only knew where or with what outcome—­or the life of one of them was to end in this tragic place within the coming few minutes.  For she realized she must use that gun with deadly effect if it were to come again into her possession.

The silence was broken only by the noises of his lips as he ate ravenously.  Outside, not a thing stirred in that snowbound world.  Not a sound of civilization reached them.  They were a man and woman in the primal, in civilization and yet a million miles from it.

“The candle’s going out,” she announced.  “Is there another?”

“There’ll be light enough for what I got to do,” he growled.

Despite her effort to appear indifferent, her great fear showed plainly in her eyes.

“Are we going to stay here all night?” she asked with a pathetic attempt at lightness.

“That’s my business.”

“Don’t you want me to help you?”

“You’ve helped me all you can with the gun and food.”

“If you’re going to Partridgeville, I’d go along and show you the way.”

He leaped up.

“Now I know you been lyin!’” he bellowed.  “You said you was headed for Millington.  And you ain’t at all.  You’re watchin’ your chance to get the drop on me and have me took—­that’s what you’re doin’!”

“Wait!” she pleaded desperately.  “I was going to Millington.  But I’d turn back and show you the way to Partridgeville to help you.”

“What’s it to you?” He had drawn the gun from his belt and now was fingering it nervously.