One by one--under her supervision--he made preparations for morning. He cut some shavings from a dead, dry branch of fir and put them under the fly, and brought a bucket of water from the creek, and then together they dragged up the dead tree. Had the young man been other than he was, the girl's purity, candor, and self-reliance would have conquered him, and when she withdrew to the little tent and let fall the frail barrier between them, she was as safe from intrusion as if she had taken refuge behind gates of triple brass. Nothing in all his life had moved him so deeply as her solicitude, her sweet trust in his honor, and he sat long in profound meditation. Any man would be rich in the ownership of her love, he admitted. That he possessed her pity and her friendship he knew, and he began to wonder if he had made a deeper appeal to her than this. "Can it be that I am really a man to her," he thought, "I who am only a poor weakling whom the rain and snow can appall?" Then he thought of the effect of this night upon her life. What would Clifford Belden do now? To what deeps would his rage descend if he should come to know of it? Berrie was serene. Twice she spoke from her couch to say: "You'd better go to bed. Daddy can't get here till to-morrow now." "I'll stay up awhile yet. My boots aren't entirely dried out." As the flame sank low the cold bit, and he built up the half-burned logs so that they blazed again. He worked as silently as he could; but the girl again spoke, with sweet authority: "Haven't you gone to bed yet?" "Oh yes, I've been asleep. I only got up to rebuild the fire." "I'm afraid you're cold." "I'm as comfortable as I deserve; it's all schooling, you know. Please go to sleep again." His teeth were chattering as he spoke, but he added: "I'm all right." After a silence she said: "You must not get chilled. Bring your bed into the tent. There is room for you." "Oh no, that isn't necessary. I'm standing it very well." "You'll be sick!" she urged, in a voice of alarm. "Please drag your bed inside the door. What would I do if you should have pneumonia to-morrow? You must not take any risk of a fever." The thought of a sheltered spot, of something to break the remorseless wind, overcame his scruples, and he drew his bed inside the tent and rearranged it there. "You're half frozen," she said. "Your teeth are chattering." "It isn't so much the cold," he stammered. "I'm tired." "You poor boy!" she exclaimed, and rose in her bed. "I'll get up and heat some water for you." "I'll be all right, in a few moments," he said. "Please go to sleep. I shall be snug as a bug in a moment." She watched his shadowy motions from her bed, and when at last he had nestled into his blankets, she said: "If you don't lose your chill I'll heat a rock and put at your feet."