MUCH thinking and planning had to be done, for the unexpected situation in which the young man found himself was complex and difficult. It was essential that his patient should be as tranquil as possible. Knowledge of her father’s death might prove disastrous. Hence she must be deceived, and yet deception was unspeakably repugnant to the young man’s nature. But now it was a duty, which above all things must be done. She must be buoyed with hope. All her fortitude would be needed to bear the miserable conditions of her imprisonment. Meantime, the young man would post notices along the road, calling for help from the first persons passing.

Already the road was wholly impassable, and it would grow worse. None of the friends or relatives of the dead man and his daughter could have been informed of their leaving the lakes. The natural conclusion from their absence would be that an early winter of unusual severity had compelled them to remain until spring. The people in the mountains would have no way of learning that the two had failed to reach the railway. Thus had the travellers been completely blotted out of their world. No relief parties would be sent out to search for them. Not until the unlikely discovery of the notices that Wilder would post could there be the slightest knowledge of the tragedy.

More than that, the road upon which Wilder’s hut looked down was only one of two that penetrated the wilderness in that direction. In the summer it had a small travel, but by reason of its crookedness, narrowness, and sharp grades it was avoided by heavy traffic. It would be the last road to be cleared. Snow-shoes were practically unknown in these mountains, for seasons of long snow blockades were rare; but there would be no occasion for snow-shoe travel over this road. The only prospect for the escape of Wilder and his charge was on foot, after the lapse of the months that would be required for her recovery, and after the snow was gone.

Innumerable domestic perplexities presented themselves to the young man’s mind. His charge, being perfectly helpless, must depend entirely upon him for her every want. Would she have the wisdom and goodness to accept the situation cheerfully, or would its humiliation and hardships gnaw constantly at her strength and patience, and delay her recovery or precipitate her death? How could she possibly accept the situation philosophically? She would find a bitter contrast between this life and the one of luxury and indulgence to which she had been accustomed. Even should she develop the highest order of fortitude, the rude food, in small variety, that he had to give her, cooked badly, could hardly tempt her appetite, and thus build up her strength. Then, her bed was a wretched affair, and there was serious danger that its hardness alone, without regard to her possible resignation to its discomforts, would produce hurtful physical results. If only wise and helpful Dr. Malbone could know and come!

Let the days bring forth what they would, Wilder would do his duty as he knew it. The fire crackled cheerily on the hearth and filled the hut with its warmth and glow and peace. The walls were tight and strong, and were holding firm against the storm. The agonizing strain of the last twelve hours was over, and all strength must be saved for the future.

In the flickering firelight the young man studied the face of his charge at leisure, and he saw that she was singularly handsome; but there seemed to be a certain hardness in her face, relaxed in unconsciousness though it was. Perhaps it was only because there stood out before his memory the one face in all the world that, with its infinite gentleness and sweetness, embodied every grace for which his spirit yearned. It was not so beautiful and brilliant a face as this,—but there came up Dr. Malbone’s warning, uttered over and over with the most earnest impressiveness:

“As you value your reason and life, as you value the possibilities of your happiness and your usefulness to humanity, turn your face from the past, and with all the courage and will of a man confront the future. Nature is kind to all of her children who love her and seek her. She heaps our past with wreckage, only to train and prepare us for a noble future. There can be no peace where there has been no travail. There would be no strength were there no weakness in need of its help. The man who fails to the slightest extent in his duties to humanity and himself burdens his life to that extent. Be brave and hopeful and helpful, as it becomes a man to be, and labor incessantly for the best, as it becomes a man to do.”

And the man with the curiously-twisted face peering out from the tree-branches, what had been the aim of his life, that it should find such an end? After all, was there any taint of unmanliness in that end? Doubtless even now he was covered deep under snow. If he should be left there, the great gray wolves might come down and find him. They were big and powerful, and men who had seen them hungry told fearful tales of their daring and ferocity. If the snow should drive them down, they would find the dead horses under the tree; and after that there would be but one house here where they could find human beings.

There need be no dread of them; but suppose that some night there should come a scratching at the door of the hut,—that would mean the gaunt shewolf, who bore away children to the wolf-pack.

She would beg for a rind of bacon to eat, and a corner on the hearth to sleep. She would bear ugly wounds from her struggles with men and beasts, and these would have to be dressed, and rents in her hide stitched; and if there were broken bones, they must be set. Would she be patient under the torture, or would she snap and howl after the manner of wolves?...

Wilder was startled to full consciousness by a moan. He bent over his patient and looked into her open eyes. She gazed up at him vacantly. He took her hand; it was hot. He placed a hand upon her forehead; it was burning. A haggard look of pain and distress sat upon her face.

An eager appeal was in her glance, and her lips moved feebly. He bent his ear to them. She was faintly whispering—

“Water, water!”

His heart bounding with gladness, he brought cold water. With difficulty he restrained her eagerness, lest she discover that she was crippled and bound. He covered her eyes with a napkin, for he observed that her glance was becoming strained and curious. She submitted quietly, while he gave her the water with a spoon. After that she sighed in weariness and content, but her deep inspiration was checked by pain. Her burning skin and an uneasiness throughout her entire frame warned him that she had a fever. He gave her a remedy for that. It was not until daylight had come that, after watching her for hours as she lay awake and seemingly halfconscious, he observed her finally drift into sound slumber.

The young man rose and found himself weak and dizzy; but after he had prepared and eaten a simple breakfast he felt stronger. Seemingly by a miracle, he had gone through his task in safety thus far. He must now leave his patient for a while, to discharge a grim duty that awaited him in the road below,—a duty from which his every sensibility recoiled with unspeakable repugnance. Lest an untoward accident should happen in his absence, he gave his patient a stupefying drug.

He dreaded to open the front door of his hut. When he did, he found the thing that he feared: the wind had ceased after midnight, and the snow had been falling ever since, and still was falling. It had whitened the walls of the canon, and, before the wind had ceased, had eddied and drifted about the hut in a way that filled the young man with alarm for the future. Would his strength be sufficient to fight it if the storm should be greatly prolonged, to the end that he and his charge should not be buried alive?

He put this dread away, and with a heavy heart followed the steep trail down to the road.