The Connecticut labor press., 1919-07-05
CHAPTER IX-ContInued.

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 However, I hoped that the night would restore my sight, and so, dis missing the matter from my mind, l struggled up until at last stood upon the summit of the hill. Far away, like thin, winding ribbon among the hills, I saw the valley of the Rtvlere dor. Beneath me I saw JacQuel1ne wait ing, a tiny figure upon the snow. I cast my eyes beyond her toward the mist-wrapped tops of the far Lauren tfans and the plains.
 And a sense of an inevitable fate came over me as perceived far away a tiny, crawling ant upon the snOws- Simon Leroux's dog sleigh.
 
 went back to the little, patient fig ure that was waiting for me, and l took up my pack again and told her nothing. She stepped bravely out be- side me, frozen, fatigued, but willing because bade her. She did not ask anything of me.
 The sun dipped lower, and far away I heard the howl of the solitary wolf again.
 I gripped my pistols as we strode along.
 We went on and on. The afternoon was wearing away; the sun was very low now and all its strength had gone. Courage, Jacqueline," I said, batting her arm. "The huts ought to be here." Her courage was greater than my own. She looked up and smiled at me. The wolf crept nearer, and its howls rang out with piercing stroke across the silence. My eyes ached so that l could hardly discern the darkening land and the snow came down, not steadily but in swirlng eddies blown On fierce gusts of wind.
 And suddenly raising my eyes de sparngly I saw the huts. There were five of them, and they had not been oc- blackened timbers were falling apart, and the roofs had been torn off all but one of them, no doubt for fuel. The wind was whirling the snow wildly around them, asd 1t whistled through the broken, rOtting walls.
 flung my pack inside the roofed one, and began tearing apart the tim bers of another to make a fire.
 Jacqueline, opening the pack, began the preparation of our meal, which consisted of some biscuits left from the night before, when we had made q quantity oh the wood ashes. We made tea over the roaring flames, and sat listening to the wolf's call and the wind that drove our fire in gusts of smoke and flame.
 scOoped out a bed for Jacqueline Inside the snow-filled hut and spread 1t with the big sleigh robe. She lay down in her fur coat, and I wrapped the ends around her. looked into her sweet face and marveled at it's seren- lty. Her eyes closed wearily.
 4 dreadful fear held me in its grip: what If she never awoke2 Some people died thus in the snow. I raised the sleigh robe and saw that the fur coat stirred softly as she breathed.
 At last, out of the wild passions that fought within me, decision was born. ! would go on, because she had bidden me. And I would be ready for Le- aoux and let him act as he saw f1t I loaded my pistols. could do no more than fight for Jacqueline, and with God De the Issue.
 "Paul!'
 I must have been half asleep for I came back to myself with a start and Gprang to my feet. Jacqueline had risen upon her knees; she flung her SrrBs out wildly, and suddenly she caught her breath and screamed, and stood up and ran uncertainty toward wne, with hands that groped for me.
 She found me; caught her, and she pushed me from her and shuddered and stared at me in that uncertain doubt that follows dreams.
 "I am here, Jacqueline," I said "With you-always, till you send me away. Remember that even in dreams Jacqueline."
 She knew me now, and she was re- cOiling from me. out through the hut door, into the blinding snow. l sprang after her.
 "JacquefAne F It is PaulI' I cried.
 And as I emerged from the hut's shelter a red hot glare from the east seemed to scar and, kill my vision. It was the rising sun. I had thought it night, and it was already day. And could see nothing through my swollen eyelids except the white light of the shining snow.
 It was horrible, in that wild waste, alone. I tried to gather my scattered wsnses together.
 Eastward, knew, the river lay, and hat binding brightness came from