United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
He put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her, at the long
brilliant face beneath the beaver cap, at the fine steel slenderness of
her, and then he said in his low-voiced way:
"O Judith! Judith! why didn't you tell me, long ago!"
"Because nothing would satisfy you but marriage," replied Judith, with a
half sob.
Douglas smiled wistfully. "But I haven't changed! Why did you tell me
now?"
"I didn't want to! I didn't mean to! But I couldn't help it. You saved
my life, Doug! It ought to belong to you, but O, I can't give it to you!
I must go on. I must find out what is the thing I'm meant to do. I
must!"
Douglas turned from her troubled face to gaze at the mad descent that
must be made before Johnson's Basin could be won. Then he put up his
hand and turned her face to follow his glance.
"Judith, do you think that I can let you go down there? If it was
impossible before, think how I feel about it now I know that you love
me. Somehow we have got to compromise on this thing, my dearest."
Judith clung to him. "I don't want to leave you, Douglas. But I can't go
back to Lost Chief. I can't!"
Douglas held her close and for a long moment there was no sound in the
wide solitudes except the Wolf Cub's faint hunting-cry.
At last Douglas said slowly, "If I give you my word that I'll take you
out to Mountain City as soon as I can outfit, will you come back to
Nelson's with me? Look at me, Jude!"
Judith lifted her eyes and searched Doug's face long and wistfully. Then
she said, brokenly, "Yes, I'll come, if you will give me your promise.
Not because I think it's sensible but because, now I've given away this
much, I don't want to be separated from you till--till I've unpacked my
heart to you!"
"And after you've done that," asked Douglas, "do you think I can ever
let you go?"
"But I thought you were not going to spoil this moment by arguing about
marriage!" exclaimed Judith.
"I'll not!" cried Douglas. "Truly, I'll not."
The Wolf Cub trotted importantly into the camp with a scrawny
jack-rabbit dragging against his shaggy gray breast. Douglas gave a
quick look at the sky.
"Judith, either we must put this place into shape for a night camp or we
must strike out at once so as to get over the Pass to-night."
"We'd better break camp," said Judith. "It's getting frightfully cold
and there's mighty little fodder left."
They fell to work swiftly, and before the Wolf Cub had half finished his
meal they were on the march. Douglas led on Tom, followed by his
pack-horse. Judith followed on the little wild mare. The crest of Black
Devil hung over their heads, the purple of his front crosshatched by
myriad crevisses filled with peacock-blue snow. The same strange blue
snow had obliterated their trail, and Tom, his bloody flanks deep in the
drifts, leaped and slid and turned, leaving a wake, Judith said, like
that of a drunken elephant.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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