She lifted her face, and the beating of Jan’s heart sounded to him like the distant thrumming of partridge wings.  Ah, the Great God—­would he ever forget that look!  She was coming to him, a new glory in her eyes, her arms reaching out, her lips parted!  Jan knew how the Great Spirit had once appeared to Mukee, the half-Cree, and how a white mist, like a snow veil, had come between the half-breed’s eyes and the wondrous thing he beheld.  And that same snow veil drifted between Jan and the woman.  Like in a vision he saw her glorious face so near to him that his blood was frightened into a strange, wonderful sensation that it had never known before.  He felt the touch of her sweet breath, he heard her passionate prayer, he knew that one of his rough hands was clasped in both her own—­and he knew, too, that their soft, thrilling warmth would remain with him until he died, and still go into Paradise with him.

When he trudged back into the snow, knee-deep now, he sought Mukee, the half-breed.  Mukee had suffered a lynx bite that went deep into the bone, and Cummins’ wife had saved his hand.  After that the savage in him was enslaved to her like an invisible spirit, and when Jan slipped on his snowshoes to set out into the deadly chaos of the “Beeg Storm” Mukee was ready to follow.  A trail through the spruce forest led them to the lake across which Jan knew that Cummins had intended to go.  Beyond that, a matter of six miles or so, there was a deep and lonely break between two mountainous ridges in which Cummins believed he might find lynx.  Indian instinct guided the two across the lake.  There they separated, Jan going as nearly as he could guess into the northwest, Mukee trailing swiftly and hopelessly into the south, both inspired in the face of death by the thought of a woman with sunny hair, and with lips and eyes that had sent many a shaft of hope and gladness into their desolate hearts.

It was no great sacrifice for Jan, this struggle with the “Beeg Snows” for the woman’s sake.  What it was to Mukee, the half-Cree, no man ever guessed or knew, for it was not until the late spring snows had gone that they found what the foxes and the wolves had left of him, far to the south.

A hand, soft and gentle, guided Jan.  He felt the warmth of it and the thrill of it, and neither the warmth nor the thrill grew less as the hours passed and the snow fell deeper.  His soul was burning with a joy that it had never known.  Beautiful visions danced in his brain, and always he heard the woman’s voice praying to him in the little cabin, saw her eyes upon him through that white snow veil!  Ah, what would he not give if he could find the man, if he could take Cummins back to his wife, and stand for one moment more with her hands clasping his, her joy flooding him with a sweetness that would last for all time!  He plunged fearlessly into the white world beyond the lake, his wide snowshoes sinking ankle-deep at every step.  There was neither rock