He could picture the scene of some twenty years before; the flickering candles, the gray walls covered with dancing shadows, the yellow gold,--beautiful in the light. He could see Bronson working,--always the plodder, always the fool! Behind him Rutheford, his partner, the pick in his arms and his brave intent in his brain. Then one swift stroke---- Harold did not know that at the thought his muscles made involuntary response. He swung the pick down, imagining the blow, with a ferocity and viciousness that would have been terrible to see. In the darkness his face was drawn and savage, and ugly fires glowed and smoldered and flamed in his eyes. XX Bill made plans for an early start to his Twenty-three Mile cabin. The hike would have been easy enough, considering the firm snow that covered the underbrush, but the hours of daylight were few and swift. And he had no desire to try to find his way in that trackless country in the darkness. "I'll leave before dawn--as soon as it gets gray," he told Virginia as he bade her good night. "I'll come back the next day, with a backload of supplies. And with the little we have left, we will have enough to go on. We can start for Bradleyburg the day after that." Virginia took no pleasure in bidding him good-by. She had already learned that this winter forest was a bleak and fearful place when her woodsman was away. Curiously, she could find little consolation in the thought that she and Harold could have a full day together, alone. And before the night was half over, it seemed to her, she heard his stealing feet on the cabin floor outside her curtain. He seemed to be moving quietly, almost stealthily. She heard the stove door open, and the subdued crack of a match scratched gently. A warm glow flooded her being when she understood. For all the arduous day's toil that waited him, Bill hadn't forgotten to build her fire. The cabin would still be warm for her to dress. She didn't know that her eyes were shining in the gloom. She drew aside the curtain. "I'm awake, Bill. I want to tell you good-by again," she said. "I don't see what makes me so clumsy," Bill returned impatiently. "I thought I could get this fire going without waking you up. But I'm glad enough to have another good-by." "And you'll be--awfully careful?" Her voice did not hold quite steadily. "So many--many things can happen in those awful woods--when you are alone. I never realized before how they're always waiting, always holding a sword over your head, ready to cut you down. I'm afraid to have you go----" He laughed gently, but the deathless delight he felt at her words rippled through the laugh like flowing water. "There's nothing to be afraid of, Virginia. You'll see me back to-morrow night. I've wandered these woods by myself a thousand times----" "And the thousandth and first time you might fall into their trap! But why can't we take some of that grizzly meat----"