North Iowa times. [volume] (McGregor, Iowa) 1867-current, 1869-04-21

beautiful form to his shoulder, and sat
down on the cutter, bending his lips to the
cold ones that could not respond to his
caress. And yet she was not dead-a
faint breath just sighed across his cheek.
Was it thus he had thought to greet his
promised wife? He could not think
he knew nothing but that he had found
Alice,-and his whole being rose to tie
resolve that he would save her,-that
neither snow, nor ice, nor cold should
take her from him. She was his, and he
claimed her, despite everything.
But he could not linger there; he must
be moving on. though ever so slowly. He
bore his burden to his own cutter, taking
with him the furs that could not save her
after that fearful sleep had begun. His
horses walked on again-they needed no
guiding-they could find their way better
than man could direct.
Anything but intense love would have
despaired in that tempest of snow, with
that pitiless wind freezing across the
earth, raising no glow on the blue-white
face against his own.
He roughly chafed with snow her hands
and face, but he soon saw that severe
measures must be tried that the lethargy
was too deep. She dimly felt tie fierce
friction, for she moancd and seemed to
shrink from it; wordless request to be
left alone. s.
Russell had forgotten the cold for him
self; the snow swept by him unheeded.
Again he lifted her in his arms and step.
ped out into the snow, letting her stand
beside him, then trying to make her fight
her way on, knowing that il she could be
aroused she was saved.
AT first she fell down hopclessly, sank
inanimately, with no wish to stir. But
in moment his ceaseless efforts bad some
effect, and he could compel her to use her
muscles slightly, though her head dropped
in an unknowing stupor.
Russell felt that he had never suffered
before. He thought the pain and sorrows
of all his life were crowded into that one
night. BY slow degrees, almost hopeless
ly slow, conciousness and horrible suffer-
ing returned.
His face was pale and sick, as he knew
the agonies she endured. But pain was
the signal of life, and not now would he
despair.
AT last she looked at him with recogniz-
ing eyes, and when everything else had
failed, love reached the fountain of Grim
son, and sent wave Of its red to her
face.
Weak, suffering, she reclined uron his
arm, unable to move or to speak. Could
he keep the life he had saved through
much longer journey?
When he left the city there were few
houses scattered by the roadside for two
or three miles. The dim glimmer of their
lights he had seen but since then he had
noticed nothing-it was waste through
which he was riding, with no lamp Of
hope held out to him. And the delicate
girl, but half resuscitated, he thought
oh, how many miles before safety?
An half hour passed, and though Rus
sells brave soul had already darted the
first doubt, human endurance could not
last forever, and it was more than he
could do to preserve the feeble life he had
recalled. In another half hour ice and
cold might conquer him. He would die
with her he could not live when that
dear face was beneath the sod.
A quarter of mile further on, and he
saw through the storm dark object by
the roadside. 1t was building of some
kind, and it could shelter them. lie
turned his horses heads that way, and
plunged through the snow to the door.
There was no door. 1t was dismantled
log hut, with it's door gone, and it's one
little window broken out. But it was bet
ter than the fury without, and in another
five minutes Alice was sheltered from the
wind. With painful and patient fumbling
he succeeded in fastening the buffalo skin
in front Of the doorway, thus forming an
insufficient barrier. Then he drew from
his pocket his cigar case and his matches,
and lighting one of the latter, looked
eagerly round the room in the Aickering
light. That glance told him that there
was an immense fire place at one side OF
the hut, and divine light streamed into
his soul at the sight.
AS his horses had dragged his cutter to
the house, the runner had grated over the
top rail Of fence, and the unseen post
had nearly upset the light cutter.
The white-fngered, fair faced English
man worked with power that was more
like fury, and when at last a ruddy blaze
blew up the broad chimney, tears of joy
actually Aoated from his eyes.
Exhausted, happy he knelt at the feet
of Alice, and with his face in her hands.
With that reviving warmth came little
Of strength to her weary soul. She leaned
forward, a smile upon her lips, and in her
eyes, and murmured
at was heaven itself who sent you here
Robert.'
Two hours later gray dawn was strug-
Cling through the clouds; broad strip Of
blue encircled the west the wind moaned
in lower tones. The old hut was golden
with the wood fire,-it threw its radiance
over the two horses that had been led in,
and stood mild and grateful in corner