But he knew very well how keenly she was suffering. His injured leg pained him almost beyond endurance, as if the frost had been concentrated there. There was nothing he could say or do for her or for himself. Toward morning, the fury of the storm having abated, they slept a little, fitfully and uneasily, in the half-insensibility to suffering that complete exhaustion brings. But they were glad when the first gray light of morning stole in among the shadows and touched their eyelids. With one accord, as if in a common apprehension, and moved by a single fear, they raised their heads, and at the first glance about them, sat up staring. The meadow lay white under its first coverlet of snow, the trees were draped in their winter mantles, their very bed had its downy quilt of snowflakes that had sifted through the branches of the tree. "It's come," said Haig simply. "Yes," she answered, in a voice that echoed a tragic calm. "But it was due." "Seth kept saying we'd have a hard and early winter." "Huntington's not such a fool as he looks," retorted Haig drily, as he lay back to look up resignedly into the foliage, where white now mingled with the green. For some time there was no more speech. Marion arose, and went silently about her work. She heaped wood on the fire until the flames leaped high, and the heat began to drive out the settled chill from her limbs, and she could move again without dull pain. Then to the brook; but her baths in the pool were ended. She washed face and hands, and brought back the wet towel for Philip. And breakfast was eaten almost in silence, and without appetite; for the good venison that had so rejoiced them the night before had already lost its flavor. "Do you see the circles on the trees yonder, where the moss begins?" asked Haig at length. "Yes," Marion answered. "That's the snow line. It will lie thirty feet deep here." She had no answer to that. But she was thinking. There must be a way. She had no idea what it would be; but there must be some way out of it. When the camp had been cleaned up, and the pan and cup had been washed and put aside, and the fire replenished, she brought her rifle from its place behind the tree. "I'm going for a walk," she said. "Where?" "I don't know. Down along the cliff perhaps. I may see another deer." "Yes. You might as well. Deer meat will keep--longer than we--" He checked the unnecessary speech. She rewarded him with a smile and left him.