Paralysis seemed to grip that dense-packed human throng.  But it was only for a second.  Then the avalanche leapt for the abyss.

“Father!  Father Adam!”

The cry went up seemingly from a thousand throats.  And with a roar the crowd surged forward.  It hurled itself at the platform.

* * * * *

Bull stared up at the house.  He moved away and glanced over the windows.  Then his eyes turned to the valley below, and his gaze settled itself on the great fires burning on the northern foreshore of the Cove.

For some moments he stood contemplating the thing he beheld.  Then, at last, he turned back to the locked door of his office.  Without a word he raised one foot, and, with all his force, crashed its sole against the lock.

The lock gave and the door fell back into the pitch darkness beyond.  He passed within.  After a while a light appeared in the office window.  It passed.  Then it reappeared in each window of the building in succession.  Presently it remained stationary and fresh lights appeared in several of the windows.  Minutes later he reappeared in the doorway.

He stepped out into the snow and came over to the waiting dog train.

“It’s a cold sort of welcome,” he said quietly.  “But—­will you please come right in, and I’ll see how I can fix you up for comfort.  I guess things have happened since I’ve been away.  They’ve turned off heat.  However—­”

Nancy McDonald rose from her place in the sled.  She flung back the wealth of furs under which she had been well-nigh buried and stepped out.  She made no reply, but stood waiting while Bull gave orders to his driver.

“Get those dogs fixed, Gouter,” he said.  “Then come right along back here.  You’ll need to gather fuel and set those stoves going.”

* * * * *

A great fire was roaring in the wood stove in the office.  Nancy and Bull were standing before it seeking to drive out the cold which seemed to have eaten into their bones.  Bull had drawn up his own rocker-chair for the girl but she had not availed herself of it.

“You are not going to keep me here, prisoner in—­your house?”

The girl spoke in a low, hushed tone.  In the indifferent lamp-light she looked ghastly pale and utterly weary-eyed.  She had removed her furs, revealing herself clad in the heavy clothing which alone could have served on her desperate journey through the camps.  It robbed her figure of much of its usual grace.

“I’m afraid I am.”  Bull smiled gently, for all the decision of his words.  “You see, Nancy, we’re still at war.  Still fighting the battle that others have forced on us.”

Nancy inclined her head.

“I’d forgotten,” she said almost humbly.  “But you have no women folk around you,” she went on urgently a moment later.  “Does war mean that—­that I must submit even—­to that?”