Part 32 (2/2)

”The fuses are in the lock box under the phone. Break the lock, or pick it. Let us know if you get in all right. How the d.i.c.kens did you get a woman out there a night like this?”

But Prince had no time to explain. ”Thanks, old man, you're pretty white,” he said, and clasped the receiver on to the hook. A little later, with the precious fuses in his pocket, he was fighting his way through the snow back to Connie, lying unconscious in the white blankets which no longer chilled her.

The waiting seemed endlessly weary. Prince dared not sit down, but must needs keep staggering up and down the track, praying as he had never prayed in all his life, that G.o.d would send a train before Connie should freeze to death. Stooping over her, he chafed her hands and ankles, shaking her roughly, but never succeeding in restoring her to consciousness though doubtless he did much toward keeping the blood in feeble circulation.

Then, thank G.o.d! No heavenly star ever shone half so gloriously bright as that wide sweep of light that circled around the ragged rocks.

Prince hastily fired the fuse, and a few minutes later a lumbering freight train pulled up beside him, anxious voices calling inquiry.

With rough but willing hands they pulled the girl on board, and piled heavy coats on a bench beside the fire where she might lie, and brought out some hot coffee which Prince swallowed in deep gulps. They even forced a few drops of it down Connie's throat. Prince was soon himself again, and sat silently beside Connie as she slept the heavy sleep.

A long lumbering ride it was, the cars creaking and rocking, reeling from side to side as if they too were drunk with weariness and cold.

At last Connie moved a little and lifted her lashes. She lay very still a while, looking with puzzled eyes at her strange surroundings, enjoying the huge fire, wondering at that curious rocking. Then, glancing at the big brown head beside her, where Prince sat on an overturned bucket with her hand in his, she closed her eyes again, still puzzled, but content.

Long minutes afterward she spoke.

”Are you cold, Prince?”

He tightened his clasp on her hand.

”No.”

”How did you ever make it?”

”The train came along and we got on. Now we are thawing out,” he explained, smiling rea.s.surance.

”I do not remember it. I only remember that I was stuck in the snow, and that you did not leave me.”

”Here comes some more coffee, lady,” said the brakeman, coming up.

Connie drank it gratefully and sat up.

”Where are we going?”

”To Fort Morgan.”

”Want any more blankets or anything?” asked the brakeman kindly. ”Are you getting warm?”

”Too warm, I will have to move a little.”

Prince helped her gently farther from the roaring flames, and again pulled his bucket close to her side. He placed his hand in her lap and Connie wriggled her fingers into his.

Suddenly she leaned forward and looked into his face, noting the steady steely eyes, the square strong chin, the boyish mouth. Not a handsome face, like Jerry's, not fine and pure, like David's,--but strong and kind, a face that somehow spoke wistfully of deep needs and secret longings. Suddenly Connie felt that she was very happy, and in the same instant discovered that her eyes were wet. She smiled.

”Connie,” whispered the big brown man, ”are we going to get married, sometime?”

”Yes,” she whispered promptly, ”sometime. If you want me.”

His hands closed convulsively over hers.

<script>