At the top of the Pass, Douglas drew up to breathe the team.  Bleak, snow-covered rocks rose on either side of the trail, but opening beyond, snow-topped ranges in rainbow tints gleamed against a sky of intensest blue.  Behind him, as he turned to look, lay Lost Chief Valley, with blue clouds rolling from the tops of Dead Line and Falkner’s Peaks.  Douglas shivered and urged the team on.  But the mule again balked, and as Doug gathered up the whip a gruff voice cried, “Hold up your hands!”

A six-shooter in a mittened fist appeared over a rock heap at the roadside.

Douglas blanched, then looked keenly at the mitten.  “Come out of that, Jude!  Darn it, I thought you’d gone to Grandma Brown’s!”

Judith led Swift from behind the rock, and mounted.  Her eyes were bright with mischief.

“You turn right round and go home again, miss!” he cried, as Swift ranged beside the buckboard.

Judith giggled.  “You sure do need a hazer, Doug, while you’re driving that mule!  I left a note for Mother.”

“Go home!  Don’t speak to me.  This is no trip for a girl!”

“You mean you want me to go home and help Dad feed the two-year-olds?” demanded Judith.

Douglas glared at her.  For all the biting cold, her old knit cap was hanging to the pommel, her mackinaw was open at the throat.  Her cheeks were deep scarlet, her gray eyes half filled with tears.

Douglas scrowled and his mouth settled into sullen lines.  This was a man’s trip.  Judith had no business to make it seem easy enough for a girl!  And with this new feeling for Judith, she was making the adventure too difficult.  Hang it all!  The place for a girl was at home!  But he knew Jude and he was not going to try to repeat the triumph of Monday morning.  He called to the team and started on.

Judith, having won her point, dropped behind the buckboard and the journey continued in silence.  They reached the half-way cabin late in the afternoon.  The little log hut, with a rude horse shelter beside it, stood in a clump of cedar close beside the trail.  The snow was fresh trampled, for the up stage had left at three o’clock.  Judith and Douglas were very cold.  They hastily unharnessed, broke the ice at the little spring and watered the horses, then rushed into the cabin.  There was a bunk, covered by soiled and ragged quilts, a table, a few cooking utensils, and boxes for seats.  They lighted a candle and unearthed canned beans, coffee, and canned brown bread from beneath the bunk.  After he had eaten his supper, Doug grinned for the first time.

“Forgiven me, huh?” asked Judith.

Douglas nodded.  “It would be darned lonely without you.  You’d better get to bed, Jude.”

“Who gets the bunk?” asked Judith.

“You of course!” Douglas’ voice was suddenly harsh again.

Judith sat down on the edge of the bunk.  In the uncertain light of the candle she looked all eyes.