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"Birch, too, as I am alive!" he cried, and plunging through the bushes came upon a clump of white birches. With fingers that could hardly hold the curling bark he gathered a few bunches and hurried back to the cave. Again he went forth and gathered from the standing trees an armful of dead dry limbs. "Good!" he cried aloud in triumph. "We're not beaten yet. Now for the fire and supper."
For one hour at least we had maintained a profound silence; while each, to any casual observer, might have seemed intently and exclusively occupied with the curling eddies of smoke that oppressed the atmosphere of the chamber.
I held out first one foot and then the other to the blazing coals, and from the soles of my shoes came curling steam. "It's a wonderful storm. I'd like to walk ten miles in it. I don't know why you were worried. I'm all right." "I know you are, but" she poked the fire "but I wish you wouldn't go so hard. For near two weeks you haven't stopped a minute. You can't stand going like that.
Spillane seemed terrified as they helped her into the ore-car so Jerry thought, as he gazed into the apparently fathomless gulf beneath her. For it was so filled with rain and cloud, hurtling and curling in the fierce blast, that the other shore, seven hundred feet away, was invisible, while the cliff at their feet dropped sheer down and lost itself in the swirling vapor.
Then he could bear her face no more, and turned to look at Kenset. Half off the edge of his blanket the forest man lay with his face buried in his hands, and beside him lay another gun, the smoke still curling from its muzzle. "By God!" said the rider, softly, "what's this?" and he ran forward to pick up the weapon. "Three of us!" he said aloud, "pepperin' him at once!
She was wrapped in a kind of dressing-gown of some simple blue stuff, and all about her breast and shoulders streamed her lovely curling hair. Her sweet face was towards him, its pallor relieved only by the long shadow of the dark lashes and the bent bow of the lips.
She saw the smoke curling upwards from his pipe, and rightly deduced from this that he was not asleep. She came forward, candle in hand. "Master Jeff, you'll pardon me, I'm sure. But it's getting so late nigh upon twelve o'clock. You won't be getting anything of a night's rest if you don't go to bed." Jeff raised his head. His eyes, sombre with thought, met hers.
At last she came out of the woods upon a hill-side covered with the tangled undergrowth that follows a fire upon the hills. The trunk of an old cedar tree, blackened and charred to the roots, warned her of a close approach to the river, and in the distance she saw a wreath of dim smoke curling up through the snow.
It was such a wonderful bright spring morning that, having filled it, she stopped for a moment to look about her at the dear familiar surroundings of her home. There was the little gray house itself, with the peat smoke curling from the chimney straight up into the blue sky.
On the frozen bosom of the lake itself were a multitude of moving figures, some flitting along with the velocity of swallows, some sweeping in the most graceful circles, and others deeply interested in a less active pastime, crowding round the spot where the inhabitants of two rival parishes contended for the prize at curling, an honour of no small importance, if we were to judge from the anxiety expressed both by the players and bystanders.
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