“Is all that necessary, my friend?” his companion asked. “We can at least try to clear away the snow and thus remove all those difficulties; and there is a chance--and a good one, don’t you think?--for the snow to melt quickly. Besides all that, we have not yet tried to dig out through the snow.” “True, true, every word of it!” he cried, delightedly. “What a clear, strong mind you have!” This was the first compliment that he had ever paid her, and its obvious sincerity gave it a precious value. It was she that now led the attack upon their prison of snow. What infinite satisfaction and pride it gave her to know that at last she was the guiding spirit of the hut; with what firm but gentle tact she overcame, one by one, his objections to her worrying or working; how she watched his every movement, hung upon his every word, relieved him as much as possible of the stress that burdened him, and ministered to his comfort in all ways; with what blithe songs in her heart and cheery words on her lips she lightened the toil of that dreadful time, need only be mentioned here. But it was she that led, that inspired, that achieved, and he knew it. This was the blessed light that shone for her through it all. A search revealed loose and easily removed snow at one end of the hut, against the face of the cliff. His work in the lead, digging and tunnelling, hers in the rear, removing the snow and keeping courage in his heart, brought them presently to the outer air. Then, for the first time, they beheld the glorious sunshine, and like children they shouted in glee to see it. Both walls of the canon were still heavily covered with snow, but numerous small slides had broken it, and the rain had softened and ploughed it. Evidently it was rapidly melting. Another scene held them as they stood hand in hand looking down into the canon. The great avalanche that had overwhelmed them had been arrested in the bottom of the canon, and had made a large lake by damming the river. Rapidly the lake grew in size and backed up the canon. Soon at any moment the growing mass of water must break through its dam, and that would be a spectacle to behold. They could not wait for that. With incredible labor--he no longer protesting against her full share in the work, and she heedless of her lameness and of its serious hindrance to her efforts--they together, hand in hand, clambered over the snow until they stood above the hut, and cheerily began to dig it free,--a task seemingly so far beyond their powers that something wonderful must have sustained them in assailing it. Thus they were working in the afternoon sunshine, for the first time boon companions, and as happy and light-hearted as children, when an exclamation from Wilder drew her attention to the dam. It was giving way under the pressure of water. Instantly she recognized a danger that he had overlooked. “Back to the cliff!” she cried, seizing his hand and dragging him away, “or we’ll go down with the snow.”