“I hadn’t thought of that!” he exclaimed, with a childish eagerness that made her heart glow. “Besides,” she continued, “how do you know that the cabin is destroyed? Let us go and see.” Her gentle strength and courage, the seeming soundness of her reasoning, and her determination not to take a gloomy view of their state, roused him without making him aware of his weakness. Her suggestion that the cabin possibly had not been destroyed was a spur to his dulled and stunned perception. “That is true,” he cheerfully said; “let us go and see.” Still clinging closely to each other, they groped in the darkness for the door. “You have matches, haven’t you?” she inquired. “Yes,” he answered, in confusion; “but we can find the door without a light.” That was not so easy. For the first time, now that the terrors of the moment had passed, the young woman was nursing a happiness that she had not known during all the dreary weeks of their imprisonment,--except once, in his illness, when it had been of so short duration. Feeling thus content, she suddenly reflected that she was at last in the forbidden apartment, where she believed some fearful mystery was kept concealed from her. Their voices had been long smothered in the cramped hut. The contrast that she now found was startling; yet her thoughts might not have reverted to the fact that she was at last in the presence of the mystery had not Wilder’s embarrassed refusal to make a light rekindled her interest. The first thing in that direction that she noticed was the singular resonance of their voices, as though they were in a place of a size just short of the echoing power. More than that, it was cold, though not nearly so cold as the outer air; and she heard the musical tinkle of dripping and running water. Wilder had evidently lost all idea of direction. In clinging to his companion as he groped, he took great care to guard her against stumbling and collision. His free hand (the other arm was about her waist) was extended. With great difficulty, increased by his eagerness, he finally found his bearings and advanced to the door. Slowly and cautiously they pushed on through the passage, and then, to their great relief, into the hut itself. This they found intact, but smoky and entirely dark,--the avalanche had smothered the chimney and shut out the light from the window. With matches they discovered that the window had not been broken and that the outer wall of the house held none of the pressure of the snow. In his peculiar fashion, however, Wilder began to foresee troubles. “The pressure of the mass above,” he said, “will compress the snow below, and thus give our window, and perhaps the outer wall of the cabin itself, a pressure that they can’t bear. The hut is buried. We can have no more fires. The worst of all is that, having no air, we must suffocate in time.”