Part 14 (1/2)

She did his bidding, and did not shrink when she felt his arms about her, while next moment she was standing knee-deep in the snow and the man shouting something she did not catch. Team and sleigh seemed to vanish, and she saw her companion dimly for a moment before he was lost in the sliding whiteness, too. Then a horrible fear came upon her.

It seemed a very long while before he reappeared, and thrust her in through what seemed to be a door. Then there was another waiting before the light of a lamp blinked out, and she saw that she was standing in a little log-walled room with bare floor and a few trusses of straw in a comer. There was also a rusty stove, and a very small pile of billets beside it. Winston, who had closed the door, stood looking at them with a curious expression.

”Where is the team?” she gasped.

”Heading for a birch bluff or Silverdale, though I scarcely think they will get there,” said the man. ”I have never stopped here, and it wasn't astonis.h.i.+ng they fancied the place a pile of snow. While I was getting the furs out, they slipped from me.”

Miss Barrington now knew where they were. The shanty was used by the remoter settlers as a half-way house where they slept occasionally on their long journey to the railroad, and as there was a birch bluff not far away, it was the rule that whoever occupied it should replace the fuel he had consumed. The last man had, however, not been liberal.

”But what are we to do?” she asked, with a little gasp of dismay.

”Stay here until the morning,” said Winston quietly. ”Unfortunately, I can't even spare you my company. The stable has fallen in, and it would be death to stand outside, you see. In the meanwhile, pull out some of the straw and put it in the stove.”

”Can you not do that?” asked Miss Barrington, feeling that she must commence at once, if she was to keep this man at a befitting distance.

Winston laughed. ”Oh, yes, but you will freeze if you stand still, and these billets require splitting. Still, if you have special objections to doing what I ask you, you can walk up and down rapidly.”

The girl glanced at him a moment and then lowered her eyes. ”Of course I was wrong. Do you wish to hear that I am sorry?”

Winston, answering nothing, swung an ax round his head, and the girl kneeling beside the stove noticed the sinewy suppleness of his frame and the precision with which the heavy blade cleft the billets. The ax, she knew, is by no means an easy tool to handle. At last the red flame crackled, and, though she had not intended the question to be malicious, there was a faint trace of irony in her voice as she asked, ”Is there any other thing you wish me to do?”

Winston flung two bundles of straw down beside the stove, and stood looking at her gravely. ”Yes,” he said. ”I want you to sit down and let me wrap this sleigh robe about you.”

The girl submitted, and did not shrink visibly from his touch, when he drew the fur robe about her shoulders and packed the end of it round her feet. Still, there was a faint warmth in her face, and she was grateful for his unconcernedness.

”Fate or fortune has placed me in charge of you until to-morrow, and if the position is distasteful to you, it is not my fault,” he said.

”Still, I feel the responsibility, and it would be a little less difficult if you would accept the fact tacitly.”

Maud Barrington would not have s.h.i.+vered if she could have avoided it, but the cold was too great for her, and she did not know whether she was vexed or pleased at the gleam of compa.s.sion in the man's gray eyes.

It was more eloquent than anything of the kind she had ever seen, but it had gone, and he was only quietly deferent, when she glanced at him again.

”I will endeavor to be good,” she said, and then flushed with annoyance at the adjective. Half-dazed by the cold as she was, she could not think of a more suitable one. Winston, however, retained his gravity.

”Now, Macdonald gave you no supper, and he has dinner at noon,” he said. ”I brought some eatables along, and you must make the best meal you can.”

He opened a packet, and laid it with a little silver flask upon her knee.

”I cannot eat all this--and it is raw spirit,” said Maud Barrington.

Winston laughed. ”Are you not forgetting your promise? Still, we will melt a little snow into the cup.”

An icy gust swept in when he opened the door, and it was only by a strenuous effort he closed it again, while when he came back panting with the top of the flask a little color crept into Maud Barrington's face. ”I am sorry,” she said. ”That at least is your due.”

”I really don't want my due,” said Winston, with a deprecatory gesture, as he laid the silver cup upon the stove. ”Can't we forget we are not exactly friends, just for to-night? If so, you will drink this and commence at once on the provisions--to please me.”

Maud Barrington was glad of the reviving draught, for she was very cold, but presently she held out the packet.

”One really cannot eat many crackers at once, will you help me?”

Winston laughed as he took one of the biscuits. ”If I had expected any one would share my meal, I would have provided a better one. Still, I have been glad to feast upon more unappetizing things occasionally.”