"How did you--get me here?" she whispered. "You crawled part of the way," he answered. "Then I lugged you on my back. Are you feeling better?" "I feel dizzy--and sick. I thought I was dead. But I remember crawling. You saved my life." "I'll make some tea. Your pack's just outside." "You saved my life--and I thought you hated me." "It was my fault. I shouldn't have crawled away last night." He staggered up, crawled out and brought in the pack. He made tea and buttered toast, the girl and the dogs watching him in silence. "I didn't eat any breakfast," she said as he handed her the only mug, full of tea. "I was a fool to crawl away last night," he said. "You might have started your leg bleeding again," said the girl. "It would have served me right," he answered. "Can you forgive me for--for thinking you lied to me?" "I forgave you long ago--when I saw you on your face in the snow. I wanted to kick myself then for having raised such a row about a little thing like that." He took the empty mug from her and filled it for himself. "I am glad you saved my life, even if you do feel--that way about me," she said. "What way?" he asked. "As if I--wasn't capable of--really understanding you." He moved over closer beside her. "I--only want you to think well of me," he said. "It was my pride that was talking last night, but seeing you helpless out there in the drift took the silly pride out of me." "I think--very well of you. I think, I know, that you are brave and honest. But what do you think of me, Jim?" "I think you are as brave as--as you are--dashed beautiful!" "Beautiful! I have green eyes!" "They are beautiful. Flora, do you know I--I don't want to make you angry but--I kissed you once, out there in the snow. And if you can forgive me--I was quite desperate, don't you know--I'd like to do it again." "Hands up!" cried a voice; and they looked up and beheld the head and shoulders and rifle of Homer Steeves at the edge of the pit. Jim didn't remove his arm from Flora's waist. "Hands up, I said!" cried Homer. "An' move away from that girl! Pack yer dunnage an' come along out of that!" Jim stood up. "What's the matter with yer leg?" asked Homer. "Cut it. What's the matter with you?" asked Jim. "Cut it, did ye. Well, ye got to come along all the same. I figgered on tyin' you an' haulin' you anyhow--an' Flora can help me." "Very kind of you, but why are you pointing that rifle at me?" "To shoot you if you resist, that's why." "He will come quietly, Homer. Don't shoot!" cried the girl.