Part 17 (1/2)

They walked together down to the ruined house, and the three of them sat silent while the fire burned red. Then Lennox turned to them with a half-smile.

”You're wasting time, you two,” he said. ”Remember all our food is gone.

If you start now, and walk hard, maybe you can make it out.”

”There are several things to do first,” Dan answered simply.

”I don't know what they are. It isn't going to be any picnic, Dan. A man can travel only so far without food to keep up his strength, particularly over such ridges as you have to cross. It will be easy to give up and die. It's the test, man; it's the test.”

”And what about you?” his daughter asked.

”Oh, I'll be all right. Besides--it's the only thing that can be done. I can't walk, and you can't carry me on your backs. What else remains?

I'll stay here--and I'll sc.r.a.pe together enough wood to keep a fire.

Then you can bring help.”

He kept his eyes averted when he talked. He was afraid for Dan to see them, knowing that he could read the lie in them.

”How do you expect to find wood--in this snow?” Dan asked him. ”It will take four days to get out; do you think you could lie here and battle with a fire for four days, and then four days more that it will take to come back? You'd have two choices: to burn green wood that I'd cut for you before I left, or the rain-soaked dead wood under the snow. You couldn't keep either one of them burning, and you'd die in a night.

Besides--this is no time for an unarmed man to be alone in the hills.”

Lennox's voice grew pleading. ”Be sensible, Dan!” he cried. ”That Cranston's got us, and got us right. I've only one thing more I care about--and that is that you pay the debt! I can't hope to get out myself. I say that I can't even hope to. But if you bring my daughter through--and when the spring comes, pay what we owe to Cranston--I'll be content. Heavens, son--I've lived my life. The old pack leader dies when his time comes, and so does a man.”

His daughter crept to him and sheltered his gray head against her breast. ”I'll stay with you then,” she cried.

”Don't be a little fool, s...o...b..rd,” he urged. ”My clothes are wet already from the melted snow. It's too long a way--it will be too hard a fight, and children--I'm old and tired out. I don't want to make the try--hunger and cold; and even if you'd stay here and grub wood, s...o...b..rd, they'd find us both dead when they came back in a week. We can't live without food, and work and keep warm--and there isn't a living creature in the hills.”

”Except the wolves,” Dan reminded him.

”Except the wolves,” Lennox echoed. ”Remember, we're unarmed--and they'd find it out. You're young, s...o...b..rd, and so is Dan--and you two will be happy. I know how things are, you two--more than you know yourselves--and in the end you'll be happy. But me--I'm too tired to make the try. I don't care about it enough. I'm going to wave you good-by, and smile, and lie here and let the cold come down. You feel warm in a little while--”

But she stopped his lips with her hand. And he bent and kissed it.

”If anybody's going to stay with you,” Dan told them in a clear, firm voice, ”it's going to be me. But aren't any of the cabins occupied?”

”You know they aren't,” Lennox answered. ”Not even the houses beyond the North Fork, even if we could get across. The nearest help is over seventy miles.”

”And s...o...b..rd, think! Haven't any supplies been left in the ranger station?”

”Not one thing,” the girl told him. ”You know Cranston and his crowd robbed the place last winter. And the telephone lines were disconnected when the rangers left.”

”Then the only way is for me to stay here. You can take the pistol, and you'll have a fair chance of getting through. I'll grub wood for our camp meanwhile, and you can bring help.”

”And if the wolves come, or if help didn't come in time,” Lennox whispered, pa.s.sion-drawn for the first time, ”who would pay what we owe to Cranston?”

”But her life counts--first of all.”

”I know it does--but mine doesn't count at all. Believe me, you two. I'm speaking from my own desires when I say I don't want to make the fight.

s...o...b..rd would never make it through alone. There are the wolves, and maybe Cranston too--the worst wolf of all. A woman can't mush across those ridges four days without food, without some one who loves her and forces her on! Neither can she stay here with me and try to make green branches burn in a fire. She's got three little pistol b.a.l.l.s--and we'd all die for a whim. Oh, please, please--”

But Dan leaped for his hand with glowing eyes. ”Listen, man!” he cried.