"No. We'll wait a day or two longer and see how you come on." At this point one of the guides spoke up, saying: "If the women would be more comfortable in a cabin, there's one down here in the brush by the lake. I found it this morning when I was wranglin' the horses." "A cabin! In this wild place?" said Alice. "Yes, ma'am--must be a ranger's cabin." Ward mused. "If it's habitable it would be warmer and safer than a tent. Let's go see about it." He came back jubilant. "It doesn't seem to have been occupied very recently, but is in fair shape. We'll move you right down there." The wounded girl welcomed the shelter of a roof, and it was good to feel solid logs about her helpless self. The interior of the hut was untidy and very rude, but it stood in a delightful nook on the bank of a pond just where a small stream fell into the valley, and it required but a few minutes of Mrs. Adams's efforts to clear the place out and make it cozy, and soon Alice, groaning faintly, was deposited in the rough pole bunk at the dark end of the room. What an inglorious end to her exalted ride! Ward seemed to understand her tears as he stood looking down upon her, but he only said: "I dislike leaving you, even for the day. I shall give up my trip." "No, no! you must go on!" she cried out. "I shall hate myself if you don't go on." He reluctantly yielded to her demand, but said: "If I find that we can't get back to-morrow I will send Gage back. He's a trusty fellow. I can't spare Adams, and Smith and Todd--as you know--are paying for their trip." Mrs. Adams spoke up firmly. "You need not worry about us. We can get along very well without anybody. If you climb the peak you'll need Gage. I'm not afraid. We're the only people in this valley, and with this staunch little cabin I feel perfectly at home." "That's quite true," replied Ward in a relieved tone. "We are above the hunters--no one ever crosses here now. But it will be lonely." "Not at all!" Alice assured him. "We shall enjoy being alone in the forest." With slow and hesitating feet Ward left the two women and swung into his saddle. "I guess I'll send Gage back, anyhow," he said. "Don't think of it!" called Peggy. As a matter of fact, Alice was glad to have the men pull out. Their pity, their reproach, irritated her. It was as if they repeated aloud a scornful phrase--"You're a lovely and tempting creature, but you're a fool-hen just the same." The two women spent the day peacefully, save now and then when Alice's wounded foot ached and needed care; but as night began to rise in the canyon like the smoke of some hidden, silent, subterranean fire, and the high crags glowed in the last rays of the sun, each of them acknowledged a touch of that immemorial awe of the darkness with which the race began.