It was midnight when she wakened Douglas.  She was blue and shivering.  “I’m a new man, Judith.  Roll in quickly!” and he picked up the faithful ax.

It was long and biting cold till dawn.  Douglas was too weary, too much menaced by the cold, to think coherently; for now, conscious of the depletion of his strength, even his new-found happiness could not blur the fact that he and Judith were playing with death on Black Devil Peak.  He kept the fire going and fought the desire to sleep until, far below and to the east, the Indian Range turned black against a crimson sky.  Then he awakened Judith.  They made a hasty breakfast, then started the stiff and weary horses through the drifts toward Mormon Valley.

But Tom horse, facing homeward, needed none of the rowelling that he had demanded on the way up.  The cold and wind were difficult to bear, for the two young people were inexpressibly weary of brain as well as body.  By noon they made the valley.  It was a slow-moving little outfit that finally limped past Nelson’s corral and was greeted by a shout from the cabin door.

Elijah, his wife, and children, rushed out to meet them and led them into the big bed-living-room off the kitchen.

“Well,” said Mrs. Nelson, “I knew she’d have to come back with you!”

CHAPTER XIX

HOME

Douglas was half blinded by snow-glare and wind, so it was several minutes before he observed an old man sitting eagerly erect on one of the beds.  Doug started to his feet.

“Where’d you come from, Mr. Fowler!”

“From Lost Chief Peak.  Get warm and rested, Doug, before you try to talk.”

“I was starting out after you when I found that Judith—­” began Doug.  “And then—­”

“Judith,” interrupted Mr. Fowler, “needed you more than I did.”

“Did they hurt you?” insisted Douglas.

“No.  Don’t try to talk till you are rested, my boy.”

“That won’t take long!” croaked Douglas.

But, as a matter of fact, it was morning before he heard the preacher’s story or told his own.  He was warmed and fed enormously and rolled into a feather bed.  And he knew nothing more until the smell of coffee and the sound of women’s voices roused him.

The living-room was flooded with sunlight.  The preacher was thrusting wood into the red-hot stove.

“Where’s Judith?” asked Douglas.

“Helping Mrs. Nelson get breakfast.  How are you?”

“Fine!  Do you suppose I can shave before breakfast?”

The preacher nodded toward a washstand in the corner and Douglas began to make his toilet.  Mr. Fowler made no attempt to talk during this process but stood before the fire, watching the young man with somber, wistful eyes.

It was an exceedingly well-groomed young rider who appeared at Elijah’s long breakfast table a half-hour later.  Judith, snow-burned, but otherwise a very fit young person, gave him an appreciative look and smile, and left him to the others while she went on with her breakfast.