“Can I?”

“Yes, at once,” said Kalman, taking full command of her.  “Now, hold on tight, and we’ll soon be at camp.”

With the gale in their backs, they set off up stream, the men holding by the stirrups.  For some minutes they battled on through the blizzard.  Well for them that they had the brawling Creek to guide them that night, for through this swaying, choking curtain of snow it was impossible to see more than a horse length.

In a few minutes Mr. Penny called out, “I say, I cawn’t go a step further.  Let’s rest a bit.”  He sat down in the snow.  Every moment the wind was blowing colder.

“Come on!” shouted Kalman through the storm.  “We must keep going or we’ll freeze.”

But there was no answer.

“Mr. Penny!  Mr. Penny!” cried Marjorie, “get up!  We must go on!”

Still there was no answer.  Kalman made his way round to the man’s side.  He was fast asleep.

“Get up!  Get up, you fool, or you will be smothered!” said Kalman, roughly shaking him.  “Get up, I say!”

He pulled the man to his feet and they started on once more, Mr. Penny stumbling along like a drunken man.

“Let me walk, Kalman,” entreated Marjorie.  “I feel fresh and strong.  He can’t go on, and he will only keep us back.”

“You walk!” cried Kalman.  “Never!  If he can’t keep up let him stay and die.”

“No, Kalman, I am quite strong.”

She slipped off the horse, Kalman growling his wrath and disgust, and together they assisted Mr. Penny to mount.  By this time they had reached the thickest part of the woods.  The trees broke to some extent the force of the wind, but the cold was growing more intense.

“Single file here!” shouted Kalman to Marjorie.  “You follow me.”

Slowly, painfully, through the darkness and drifted snow, with teeth clenched to keep back the groans which the pain of his foot was forcing from him, Kalman stumbled along.  At length a misstep turned his foot.  He sank with a groan into the snow.  With a cry Marjorie was beside him.

“Oh, Kalman, you have hurt yourself!”

“It is this cursed foot of mine,” he groaned.  “I twisted it and something’s broken, I am afraid, and it is rather sore.”

“Hello there! what’s up?” cried Mr. Penny from his saddle.  “I’m getting beastly cold up here.”

Marjorie turned wrathfully upon him.

“Here, you great lazy thing, come down!” she cried.  “Kalman, you must ride.”

But Kalman was up and once more leading the way.

“We’re almost there,” he cried.  “Come along; he couldn’t find the path.”

“It’s just a great shame!” cried Marjorie, half sobbing, keeping by his side.  “Can’t I help you?  Let me try.”

Her arm around him put new life into him.

“By Jove!  I see a fire,” shouted Mr. Penny.

“That’s camp,” said Kalman, pausing for breath while Marjorie held him up.  “We’re just there.”