They agreed that my plan was the only thing feasible, and we called Miss Hetherill. She was eager to undertake the mission. She had been waiting to propose it, but held back, expecting us to act first. She started at once toward the hut, which was only two or three hundred yards away, but her progress was slow. The snow, which had now attained a great depth, blocked the way. We watched her breaking her path through it toward the hut, where the colonel was silent and invisible. The little building seemed almost crushed under its weight of snow, but the languid coil of smoke still curled from the mouth of the pipe. Miss Hetherill was within twenty feet of the door. "The colonel hasn't taken notice yet," said the doctor. "It would be funny if she should find him sound asleep and in our power for hours, if we had only thought to take him." I watched with eager interest as the twenty feet between Miss Hetherill and the door diminished. She reached the door and knocked. As she stood there and waited, I guessed that she received no answer. She knocked a second time, waited a minute or so, and then pushed the door open and entered. She ran out again in a moment, uttering a cry and turning a dismayed face toward us. We ran to the hut as fast as we could, plunging through the snow. I was the first to arrive: when I thrust my head in at the open door, I saw that the place was empty. Some coals still smoldered upon the flat stone which served for a rude fireplace; a dressed deer-skin lay in the corner; but the colonel was gone beyond a doubt. One large man would nearly fill the place. "He's taken his rifle and ammunition with him," said Crothers, "so he's all right." I was glad that he had called attention to the fact so promptly, for it seemed to indicate deliberation and not delirium on the colonel's part. There was no need to ask what next from the men about me. Their obligations to the colonel would never permit them to abandon the search for him as long as one hope that he was alive existed. But the great snow was a formidable obstacle to any expedition. "How shall we go about it?" I asked, hopelessly, of Dr. Ambrose. "There is no trail," he replied; "the falling snow covers up his footsteps a half-minute after he makes them; but he must have gone up that slash through the hills there. It is the easiest route from here, and the one a man with no fixed idea in his head would most likely take." There was a general agreement with the doctor's opinion, and we planned our pursuit at once. Four men would remain at the camp and protect it, and relieve us should we return exhausted and without the fugitive. Miss Hetherill would remain with them. She made some demur, saying she was a good mountaineer and citing proof, but she yielded to the obvious fact that a woman could make but little progress through the deep snow. "We will be sure to bring him back," I said to her when we started. "Take care of yourself too," she said.