Since Jacqueline was supposed to know the route, I could ask no direct questions; but I gathered that the chateau lay about a hundred and twenty miles north-westward.  For the first part of the journey we were to travel along the right bank of the Riviere d’Or; at the point where the mountains began there were some trappers’ huts, and there doubtless I could gain further information.

M. Danton had his sleigh and eight fine-looking dogs ready for us.  I purchased these outright in order to carry no hostages.  We took with us several days’ supply of food, a little tent, sleeping-bags, and frozen fish for the animals.

I must record that a small wharf was in course of construction, and that the contractor’s sign read:  “Northern Exploitation Company.”  M. Danton informed me that this was a lumber company which had already begun operations, and that the establishment of its camps accounted for the absence of inhabitants.

In fact, our arrival was almost unobserved, and two hours afterward we had set forth upon our journey.

I wondered what Jacqueline remembered.  Vague and unquiet thoughts seemed to float up into her mind, and she sat by my side silent and rather sad.  I think she was afraid of the knowledge that was to come to her.

God knows I was, and for this reason was resolved to ask no questions unless they should become necessary.  Whether or not she even knew the route I had no means of discovering.

The sun shone brightly; the air, intensely cold, chilled our faces, but could not penetrate our furs.  Sometimes we rubbed each other’s cheeks with snow when they grew threateningly white, laughing to see the blood rush to the under surface of the skin, and jested about our journey to drive away our fears.

And it was wonderful.  It was as though we were the first man and woman in the world, wandering in our snow-garden, and still lost in amazement at each other.  The prospect of meeting others of our kind began to be a fantastic horror to me.

We were happy with each other.  If we could travel forever thus!  I watched her beautiful, serene face; the brown hair, brought low over the ears to guard them against the cold; the big grey eyes that were turned upon mine sometimes in puzzled wonder, but very real content.

I held her small gloved hand inside the big sable muff, and we would sit thus for hours in silence while the dogs picked their way along the trail.  When I looked back I could see the tiny pad-prints stretching away toward the far horizon, an undeviating black blur upon the whiteness of the snow.

It was a strange situation.  It might easily have become an impossible one.  But it was a sacred comradeship, refined above the love of friend for friend, or lover for lover, by her faith, her helplessness, and need.

We tried so hard to be merry.  When we had fed the dogs at noon and eaten our meal we would strap on the raquettes, the snow-shoes with which Danton had furnished us, and travel over the crusted drifts beside the stream.  We ran out on the surface of the river and made snowballs, and pelted each other, laughing like school children.