Her words died away in the middle of the sentence, and for a moment she sat gazing with wide and startled eyes. For all that sight was just beginning to return to him, Bill was strangely and unexplainably startled, too, probably sensing the suspense indicated in the girl's tones. Harold turned, staring. He could not see what Virginia saw, at first. She pointed, unable to speak. In a little thicket of young spruce there was a curiously shaped heap of snow, capped by a done of snow that extended under the sheltering branches of a young tree. Instantly Harold understood. Some long bundle had been left there before the snow came; when it had been thrown down its end had caught in the branches of a young tree where only a small amount of snow could reach it. "See what it is," Virginia ordered. The man drew the sled nearer and with desperate energy began to knock away the snow. His first discovery was a linen tent,--one that would have been familiar indeed to Bill. But digging further he found a heavy bundle, tied with a rope and rattling curiously in his arms. At Virginia's directions he laid it in the snow and pulled the sled up where she could open it. Bill stood beside her, not daring to guess the truth. "Oh, my darling!" she cried at last, drawing his head down to hers. She couldn't say more. She could only laugh and sob, alternately, as might one whose dearest prayers had been granted. The bundle was full of food,--dried meat and canned goods and a small sack of flour. They were some of the supplies that to save himself the work of caring for, the faithless Vosper had discarded when, with Kenly, he had turned back from the river. * * * * * At the end of three bitter days, Bill Bronson stood once more on the hill that looked down upon the old mining camp. The twilight was growing in the glen beneath; already it had cast shadows in Virginia's eyes. She sat beside him on the sled. It had been cruel hardship, the three days' journey, but they had made it without mishap. At night they had built great fires at the mouth of their tent, but they had not escaped the curse of the cold. The days had been arduous and long. But they had conquered; even now they were emerging from the dark fringe of the spruce. Virginia was on the rapid road toward recovery from her wound. It had not been severe; while she was lying still on the sled it had had every chance to heal. A few stitches by the doctor in Bradleyburg, a thorough cleansing and bandaging, and a few more days in bed would avert all serious consequences. Bill's sight had grown steadily better as the days had passed; already the Spirits of Mercy had permitted him, at close range, to behold Virginia's face.