At last Douglas said slowly, “If I give you my word that I’ll take you out to Mountain City as soon as I can outfit, will you come back to Nelson’s with me?  Look at me, Jude!”

Judith lifted her eyes and searched Doug’s face long and wistfully.  Then she said, brokenly, “Yes, I’ll come, if you will give me your promise.  Not because I think it’s sensible but because, now I’ve given away this much, I don’t want to be separated from you till—­till I’ve unpacked my heart to you!”

“And after you’ve done that,” asked Douglas, “do you think I can ever let you go?”

“But I thought you were not going to spoil this moment by arguing about marriage!” exclaimed Judith.

“I’ll not!” cried Douglas.  “Truly, I’ll not.”

The Wolf Cub trotted importantly into the camp with a scrawny jack-rabbit dragging against his shaggy gray breast.  Douglas gave a quick look at the sky.

“Judith, either we must put this place into shape for a night camp or we must strike out at once so as to get over the Pass to-night.”

“We’d better break camp,” said Judith.  “It’s getting frightfully cold and there’s mighty little fodder left.”

They fell to work swiftly, and before the Wolf Cub had half finished his meal they were on the march.  Douglas led on Tom, followed by his pack-horse.  Judith followed on the little wild mare.  The crest of Black Devil hung over their heads, the purple of his front crosshatched by myriad crevisses filled with peacock-blue snow.  The same strange blue snow had obliterated their trail, and Tom, his bloody flanks deep in the drifts, leaped and slid and turned, leaving a wake, Judith said, like that of a drunken elephant.

The drifts had blown clear of the narrow ridge down which poor Buster had slid.  They dared not trust the horses here, but dismounted and crept gingerly across, the animals slipping and snorting behind them.  They rested after the crossing, and Douglas saw that tears were frozen on Judith’s lashes.

“Judith, I believe the old horse was glad to go in service that way,” he said.

Judith shook her head.  “It’s been a terribly expensive trip,” she said.  “Old Johnny and Buster.”

“Expensive for them, yes,—­poor old scouts both of them,” Douglas sighed, then added, “But, God, what a marvelous trip for me!”

“And for me!” Judith nodded soberly.

They beat their hands across their breasts and remounted, silently.

All the brilliant afternoon, they worked their uneven way upward.  Each of the horses was down again and again.  Both Judith and Douglas were bruised and cut by ice.  Both were drawing breath in rapid sobs when, just before sunset, they fought the last few yards to the level of the Pass, won to it, and lay on the icy ledge, exhausted.  Wolf Cub nosed them and whined disconsolately.

“You’re right—­old hunter—!” gasped Douglas.  “If we—­don’t—­keep moving—­the cold—­will get us!”