The Snowshoe Trail

by Edison Marshall

  XXVI

  Bill had not been lying long inert in the snow. Otherwise Virginiawould not have heard his heart thumping so steadily in his breast. Infact, she was almost on the top of the ridge when he had given up. Hehad just drifted off to sleep when she reached his side.

  And now he thought he was in the midst of some wonderful, gloriousdream. Death was being merciful, after all: in the moment of itsdescent it was giving him the image of his fondest dream. It seemed tohim that soft, warm arms were about him, that his head was pillowedagainst a tenderness, a holiness passing understanding. He didn't wantthe dream to end. It would in a moment, the darkness would drop overhim; but even for the breath that it endured it almost atoned for thefull travail of his life.

  There were kisses, too. They came so softly, so warm, just as he haddreamed. "Virginia," he whispered. "Is it you, Virginia--come tome----?"

  Then, so clearly that he could no longer retain the delusion of dream,he heard his answer. "Yes--and I've come to save you."

  It was true. Her arms were about him; he was nestled against herbreast. Yet the kisses must have been only a dream that was worth deathto gain. She was at work on him now. He felt her swift motions; nowshe was putting a flask to his lips. A burning liquid poured into histhroat.

  There ensued a moment of indescribable peace, and then the flask was putto his lips again. The inner forces of his body, fighting still for hislife even after he had given up, seized quickly upon the warming liquor,forced it into his blood, and drove away the frost that was beginning tocongeal his life fluids. Already he felt a new stir in his veins. Hestruggled to speak.

  "No yet," the girl whispered. "Don't make any effort yet."

  She gave him more of the liquor. He felt strength returning to hismuscles. He tried to open his eyes. The sharp pain was a swiftreminder of his blindness. "I'm blind----" he told her.

  "No matter, I'll save you." Even his blindness would not put a barrierbetween them. One glance at the inflamed lids, however, told her thatin all probability it was just a temporary blindness from some greatirritation, soon to be dispelled. "Can you eat?" she asked.

  The man nodded.

  "It's better to, if you can. The whisky is only a stimulant, and itwon't keep you alive." She thrust a fragment of sweet chocolate intohis mouth, permitting it to melt. "You'd better get to your feet assoon as you can--and try to get the flood flowing right again. We'reonly a few miles from the cabin--if you'll just fight we can make itin."

  He shook his head. "I can't--I can't go any farther. I can't see theway."

  "But I'll lead you." By her intuition she guessed his despair; and shecomforted him, his head against her breast. "Don't you know I'll leadyou?" she cried, a world of pleading in her tone. "Oh, Bill--youcan't give up. You must try. If you die, I'll die too--here besideyou. Oh, Bill--don't you know I need you?"

  The words stirred and wakened him more than all her first aid. Sheneeded him; she was pleading to him to get up and go on. Could herefuse that appeal? Could any wish of hers, as long as he lived and wasable to strive for her, go ungranted? The blood mounted through hisveins, awakened. A mysterious strength flowed back into his thews.

  There could be no further question of giving up. He struggled withhimself, and his voice was almost his own when he spoke. "Give me morefood--and more whisky," he commanded. "Take some yourself too--you'llhave to help me a lot going home. And give me your hands."

  He struggled to his feet. He reeled, nearly fell; but her arms held himup. She gave him more chocolate and a swallow of the burning liquid.

  "It's a race against time," she told him. "If I can get you into thecabin before the reaction comes, I can save you. Try with every muscleyou've got, Bill--for me!"

  She need make no other appeal. She took his hand, and they startedmushing over the drifts.

  * * * * *

  The moose that stands at bay against the wolf pack, the ferocious littleermine in the grasp of the climbing marten never made a harder, morevaliant fight than these two waged on the way to the cabin. There wasno mercy for them in the biting cold. Bill was frightfully worn andspent from his experience of the day and the previous night, andVirginia had lent her own young strength to him. Often he reeled andfaltered, and at such times her arm in his kept him up. The milesseemed innumerable and long.

  A might that has its seat higher and beyond the mere energy-givingchemistry of their bodies came to their aid. Virginia had never dreamedthat she possessed such power of endurance and unfaltering muscles: aspirit born of an unconquerable will rose within her and bore her on.She was aware of no physical pain; the magnificent exertion of hermuscles was almost unconscious. Just as women fight for the lives oftheir babes she fought for him, as if it were the deepest instinct ofher being. The thought of giving up was intolerable, and such spirit isthe soul of victory!

  They won at last. Without the stimulant and the nutritious food defeatwould have been certain. But all these factors would have beenunavailing except for the fighting spirit that her appeal to him hadawakened and which she had found, full-grown, in her own soul.

  They mused up to the cabin, and Harold stared at them like a lifelessthing as Bill reeled through the doorway. Virginia led him to her owncot, then drew the blankets over him. And she was not so exhausted butthat she could continue the fight for his recovery.

  "Build up the fire, and do it quickly," she ordered Harold. Her tonewas terse, commanding, and curiously he leaped to obey her. She removedBill's snow-covered garments, and as Harold went out to procure morefuel she put water on the stove to heat. Then, procuring snow, shebegan to rub Bill's right hand, the hand that had been frozen in hiseffort to grope for the trail. Quick and hard work was needed to saveit.

  Harold came to her aid, but she put him to other work. She wanted to dothis task herself. Then she aroused the woodsman from his half-sleep togive him coffee, cup after cup of it that used up the last of theirmeager supply.

  It is one of the peculiar faculties of the human body to recover quicklyfrom the effects of severe cold. Even coupled with exhaustion hishardships had wrought no lasting organic injury, and the magnificentrecuperative powers of Bill's tough body came quickly to his aid. Aboutmidnight he wakened from a long sleep, wholly clear-headed and free frompain. Wet bandages were over his eyes.

  He groped and in a moment found Virginia's hands. But an instant heheld them only; it was enough to know that she was near. He realizedthat he was out of danger now: such tenderness as she had given him mustbe forgotten. She was still sitting beside his bed, wrapped in ablanket.

  He started to get up so that she could have her own cot; but she wakenedat his motions. Gently she pushed him down.

  "But I'm all right now," he told her. "I'm sleepy--and sore--butI'm strong as ever. Let me go to my bed, and get some sleep."

  "No. I'm not sleepy yet."

  But the dull tones of her voice--even thought Bill could not see thewhite fatigue in her face--belied her words. Bill laughed, the samegay laugh that had cheered her so many times, and swung his feet to thefloor. "It's my turn to be nurse--now," he told her. "Get in quick."

  "But I've had Harold bring some blankets here and spread them on thefloor," she objected. "I can go to sleep there, when--I'm--tired."

  "And I can go to sleep there right now."

  With his strong arms he half-lifted her and laid her in his warm place.She yielded to his strength, sleepily and gratefully, and he drew theblankets about her shoulders. The touch of his hand was in some waywonderful,--so strong, so comforting. Then, reeling only a little, hegroped his way to the bed she had made upon the floor.

  "Good night," he called, when he had pulled his blankets up. Guided bya hope that flooded his heart with tremulous anticipations, he held outhis hand in the darkness toward her.

  As if by a miracle, her own hand came stealing into his. No man couldtell by what unity of longing they had acted: but neither seemed
surprised to find the other's, waiting in the darkness. It was simplythe Mystery that all men see and no man understands.

  He held the little hand in his for just a breath, as a man might hold aholy thing that a prophet had blessed. Then he let it go.

  "Good night, Bill," she told him sleepily.

  In the hours of refreshing slumber that lasted full into the nextmorning there was but one curious circumstance. In the full light ofmorning it seemed to him that he heard the faint prick of a rifle, faraway. The truth was that for all his heavy sleep, some of his guardiansenses were awake to receive impressions, and the sound was a reality.It was curiously woven into the fabric of his dreams.

  There were four shots, one swiftly upon another. Four,--and thefigure four had a puzzling, yet sinister significance to his mind. Hedidn't know what it was: he had a confused sense of some sort of aninner warning, an impression of impending danger and treachery. Who wasit that had held up four fingers somewhere in his experience, and whatmanner of signal had it been? But Bill didn't fully waken. His dreamsran on, confused and troubled.