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Updated: May 6, 2025
"Night's coming." "It's too late to turn back now." And in spite of the pain of bleeding, snow-burned lips, Houston smiled at her, the smile that a man might give a sister of whom he was inordinately proud. "Are you afraid?" "Of what?" "Me." She did not answer for a moment. Then: "Are you afraid of yourself?" "No. Only men with something on their conscience are afraid."
So he came down reluctantly, snow-burned, snow-estranged, to the house in the hollow, between the knuckles of the mountain tops. He saw its lights shining yellow, and he held back, wishing he need not go in, to confront those people, to hear the turmoil of voices and to feel the confusion of other presences. He was isolated as if there were a vacuum round his heart, or a sheath of pure ice.
Then he prepared some coffee and bacon for her. She ate ravenously. Douglas watched her with satisfaction radiating from every line of his snow-burned face. "Are you warm now, Jude?" he asked her when she had begun on her second cup of coffee. "Well, not exactly warm, but I sure am thawing!" "As soon as you are warm, I'll let you sleep. That's right, let old Wolf Cub snuggle up against you.
Judith, snow-burned, but otherwise a very fit young person, gave him an appreciative look and smile, and left him to the others while she went on with her breakfast. They sat long at the table. The children were sent off to school. The adventure up and down Black Devil Peak was thoroughly discussed. Then Douglas turned to the preacher. "And what did they do to you, Mr. Fowler?"
The faint blue smoke rising straight among the white blossoms reminded him again of his hunger, so, wiping the perspiration from his snow-burned face, he started on again, but when he came to the ditch which carried water from the stream through a hundred and fifty feet of sluice-boxes he stopped and examined with eager interest the methods used for saving fine gold, for, keen as was his hunger, the miner's instinct within him was keener.
Into these we would occasionally descend to relieve our reflection-burned—or, as a Persian would say, “snow-burned”—faces, while the thermometer above stood at 120° in the shade. Over the level ninety-mile stretch between Kasveen and the capital a so-called carriage-road has recently been constructed close to the base of the mountain.
'But weren't you tired? I said, aghast. He was. Under the inflamed redness of his sun- and wind- and snow-burned face he was sick with fatigue. He had done over a hundred miles in the last four days. 'Did you enjoy it? I asked. 'Oh yes. I wanted to do it all. He wanted to do it, and he had done it. But God knows what he wanted to do it for.
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