"As a party we have no strength--no discipline," he went on. "Since your father died we have had no leader. I know what you would say, Grace dear," he continued, answering the mute protest of the girl's hand, "but even if it were true--if I were capable of leading them, they would not take my counsels. Perhaps it is as well. If we kept together, the greatest peril of our situation would be ever present--the peril from _ourselves_!" He looked intently at her as he spoke, but she evidently did not take his meaning. "Grace," he said, desperately, "when starving men are thrown together, they are capable of any sacrifice--of any crime, to keep the miserable life that they hold so dear just in proportion as it becomes valueless. You have read in books--Grace! good God, what is the matter?" If she had not read his meaning in books, she might have read it at that moment in the face that was peering in at the door--a face with so much of animal suggestion in its horrible wistfulness that she needed no further revelation; a face full of inhuman ferocity and watchful eagerness, and yet a face familiar in its outlines--the face of Dumphy! Even with her danger came the swifter instinct of feminine tact and concealment, and without betraying the real cause of her momentary horror, she dropped her head upon Philip's shoulder and whispered, "I understand." When she raised her head again the face was gone. "Enough, I did not mean to frighten you, Grace, but only to show you what we must avoid--what we have still strength left to avoid. There is but one chance of escape; you know what it is--a desperate one, but no more desperate than this passive waiting for a certain end. I ask you again--will you share it with me? When I first spoke I was less sanguine than now. Since then I have explored the ground carefully, and studied the trend of these mountains. It is _possible_. I say no more." "But my sister and brother?" "The child would be a hopeless impediment, even if she could survive the fatigue and exposure. Your brother must stay with her; she will need all his remaining strength and all the hopefulness that keeps him up. No, Grace, we must go alone. Remember, our safety means theirs. Their strength will last until we can send relief; while they would sink in the attempt to reach it with us. I would go alone, but I cannot bear, dear Grace, to leave you here." "I should die if you left me," she said, simply. "I believe you would, Grace," he said as simply. "But can we not wait? Help may come at any moment--to-morrow." "To-morrow will find us weaker. I should not trust your strength nor my own a day longer." "But the old man--the Doctor?" "He will soon be beyond the reach of help," said the young man, sadly. "Hush, he is moving."