“It’s lucky we’ve got on moccasins instead, of boots, is it not?” she said.  She seemed to have dropped that old tone of reserve as completely as she might a cloak from her shoulders.

She gave him her hand, and they ran up the river alongside the jagged rent.  Two or three bullets whizzed past them perilously near their heads.

“Why, there’s Child-of-Light and Rory!” she cried.  “I suppose they’ve come to keep back the Indians."’

It was indeed the case.  The sight of the advancing Indians had been too much, for them, and they had come out on the ice so as to check the foe.  Their fire was steadier than the enemy’s, for it did undoubted execution.

Soon Pasmore and Dorothy came to a place that seemed comparatively narrow, and here they essayed to cross.  The other side seemed a terribly difficult spot on which to land, and the clear, blue water that ran between looked deadly cold.  Once in there and it would be a hundred chances to one against getting out.

“I’ll jump across first,” said Pasmore, “so as to be ready to catch you on the other side.”

He jumped it with little effort, although he fell on the other side, and then it was Dorothy’s turn.

There was a flush on her cheeks and her eyes were strangely bright as she put one foot on the sharp corner of the rent, fixed her eyes on him, and sprang.  It was a dangerous and difficult jump for a woman to take, but he caught her in his strong arms just as she tottered on the brink, in the act of falling backwards, and drew her to him.

“Well done!” he cried, “another time I wish you’d come to me like that!”

“Let us run,” she said, ignoring his remark, but without show of resentment.  “Here is Jacques waiting for us with his sleigh.”

And then a tragic thing occurred.  The mighty waters of the Saskatchewan had been gathering force beneath the ice, and, pressing the great flooring upwards, at length gained such irresistible power that the whole ice-field shivered, and was broken up into gigantic slabs, until it resembled a vast mosaic.  The horse attached to Jacques’ sleigh was shot into a great rent, from which it was impossible to extricate it.  They dared not stay a moment longer if they wished to escape with their lives.

Then far five minutes they held their lives in their hands, but they proceeded cautiously and surely, jumping from berg to berg, the man encouraging the woman to fresh endeavour, until at last they gained the southern bank.  Had they slipped or overbalanced themselves it would have been good-bye to this world.  Pasmore and Douglas had to assist Dorothy up the steep banks, so great had been the strain and so great was the reaction.  Nor was it to be wondered at, for it would have tried the nerves of most men.  They turned when they had reached a point of vantage and looked around.  An awe-inspiring but magnificent sight met their gaze.