“Ah, there is only One—the Great Spirit, the Great Father. Perhaps He will let a poor and evil child creep in at His feet. Ah-yah-i-yah—” wailed the woman. “The light had gone out, the dark filled my soul, I saw no way, I made my way, it was the way of death, death to him also who deserved death, and death to me—and death—ah-yah-i-yah—death to all I love—perhaps——” “Hush, hush, Mammy!” said Paul, soothing her as he might a child. “God is good, He forgives, He forgives. Never fear Him. And I know we shall get through. Now rest. We start again at dawn.” The next day a driving head wind and the blinding drift slowed down the pace of the limping dogs to a bare ten miles for the five hours of daylight, leaving twenty-five miles still to go. Again the Indian woman besought Paul to try the journey with a light toboggan and the children and leave her in camp. “They will not hinder you much, Paul. Even Tanna can keep up with you. But I drag you down to death.” But Paul could not be persuaded. “One day more,” he said. “Then if I must I will.” But next morning the tail of a blizzard held them fast for two precious hours. One of the dogs refused to move and Paul with a swift blow of the hatchet put it out of misery and fed the emaciated bones to the others. After that Onawata had surreptitiously, when the others were after wood, saved some fragments of the flesh. When the blizzard had somewhat broken, Paul once more got the little party on the march, Onawata marching with the rest. An hour’s run however found her staggering with pain and weakness, and Paul forced her to the toboggan. “We shall make it tonight,” he said. “It is going to be fine now.” But the woman shook her head. “No, no,” she said. “There is another storm coming.” “Not a bit of it,” declared Paul. “Look at that sky.” “Hurry! hurry!” said the woman. For another two hours Paul led the way, breaking the crusted trail, ploughing his way through drifts and dragging his limping team and part of their load after him. The wind had dropped, and with it the temperature. The icy cold fell upon them, its penetrating thrust making for heart, lungs and every vital organ. Pause they dared not. In the lead, Paul, staggering forward with legs numb from sheer weariness and lessening vitality, broke the trail for the dogs, leaning his weight hard upon his leading line. Behind the toboggan the boy lashed the crawling dogs with weird Indian objurgations, behind him again the little blind girl, guided by a dog trace, ran lightly over the broken trail, her spirit still undaunted.