Jim Todhunter only pretended to sleep, but he lay very still for hours. His mind and heart were prey to bitter and humiliating thoughts and emotions. The girl had believed him guilty of shooting from cover at an unarmed man! It was a thing which her brother Mark would not have suspected him of for a moment. And she had continued to believe it of him after he had denied it. So far, she had considered him a coward, a would-be murderer, and a liar. But that had not been enough. She had then lied to him; and when he had believed her and taken to the winter wilderness to draw suspicion away from her and upon himself, she had considered him not only a blackguard but a fool. And he had thought her his friend! He had thought that she knew him! It was too damn much! But for his wounded leg, she would never see him again. As it was, he would avoid her as much as possible. He would return to the glen, remain there until the cut was healed, and then go north to the trapping country. In the meantime he would make the homeward trip without any help from her. Before midnight, he sat up and cautiously prepared for his journey by the low, red glow of the fallen fire. First of all, he ate the few slices of fried bacon and toasted bread which had been left over from supper. These were frozen and he thawed them at the embers. He helped the heavy food down with a few mouthfuls of bitter cold tea. After examining the bandages of his injured leg and finding that the blood had ceased to flow, he cut one of his blankets in two, wrapped a half securely around the leg from hip to ankle and bound it with the thongs from his snowshoes. He rolled his blankets lengthwise, looped the roll across his shoulder like a bandolier and tied the ends. He slung his rifle, stuffed his pockets with food, pulled his mittens high about his wrists and his fur cap low about his ears and then crawled away from the low fire and the sleeping girl and dogs. He went on his hands and his right knee, dragging his bulkily swathed leg stiffly and heavily. His arms sank to the elbows, sometimes to the shoulders. The dry snow puffed up in his face at every movement of his arms, almost choking him. He followed his old tracks back to the edge of the barren, there found Flora's trail and took to the open. The air was still and cold.