"Philip!" she said softly, reproachfully.

"I don't understand!" he reiterated, and closed his eyes.

She studied him, and the place where he lay, and the dead pony; the two wounds in his head, the b.l.o.o.d.y handkerchief--And it was only partly clear to her. He had fallen, and been hurt; but Philip, as she knew him, would have made nothing of that cut on his temple. Why, then, had he abandoned the pursuit, and tried to kill himself?

A groan escaped him.

"What is it, Philip?" she asked.

"You're hurting me!" he answered, opening his eyes again.

"Hurting you?" she exclaimed. "No! Where?"

"My leg's broken."

With a sharp cry she moved away from him, and saw that in her eagerness she had pressed against his right leg. For just a moment she was so concerned with the pain she had caused him that she did not realize the full significance of his answer. Then it came to her with a shock. She looked slowly around her: at the black forest on three sides of the little meadow; at the cliff on the other; at the terrible trail down which she had come, she scarce knew how; and at the storm clouds on Thunder Mountain.

He saw the thought in her face.

"You see, it's no use!" he said. "With a broken leg."

She met his eyes with a clear and steady gaze; and smiled. And that look he could not read.

"Now, then, Philip!" she said at length, rising quietly to her feet.

"I'll go to work."

"To work?" he repeated.

"Of course!" she replied, with brave lightness. "There's a lot to do.

First, there's your leg."

"Yes, it's broken," he answered sardonically.

"We'll mend it. And the cut on your head needs to be dressed. And I'm dreadfully hungry, and--"

She stopped, and the smile fled from her face, and the strength ran from her limbs.

"I told you. It's no use," said Haig.

But she had one resource of courage of which he was unaware: her faith.

"Well," she answered stoutly, "I've enough in my bundle for one meal anyhow. After that--who knows?"

"Will you give me a drink of water, please?"

She stooped quickly for her hat, the only vessel she had.

"Look in the roll on my saddle," he said. "Murray put some things there."

She glanced around uncertainly; then understood. The saddle was on Trixy still. But Trixy was dead, and she did not like the idea of touching her. She hesitated just the length of time required for an unpleasant smile to twist Haig's lips. She saw it, and her face flamed with shame. A fine start she was making! And it was only a dead horse! She walked resolutely to the prostrate body, hurriedly untied the roll of blankets, and returned running.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she cried, as she unrolled the bundle. "A cup! A pan!

And bacon and bread! And matches."

"Murray," said Haig.

"Yes, I know. Mrs. Murray told me, but I'd forgotten."

She ran to the stream, and brought him a cupful of water; and another; and while he drank the second, she picked up his revolver, and carried it to a stone fully as far away as it had been when he crawled for it.

He was on the point of calling her back, but thought better of it; to have done that would only have confirmed her suspicions.

"Now then, sir!" she began. "Your leg."

"What about it?"

"We've got to set it."

"That's absurd!"

"Why is it absurd?"

"You can't do it, in the first place."

"But I can. I've seen my father do it."

"It won't heal--in the fix we're in."

"We'll do our best," she rejoined bravely.

"Listen!" he said, with some sternness. "If it should knit, which I doubt, it will take six weeks or two months before I can use it. Do you know what will happen before two months--before one month--before two weeks, even?"

She only looked at him questioningly.

"Snow!" he said shortly.

She could find no answer, unless it were an answer that she dared not give him--yet.

"Well, then!" he said, with an air of finality. "You can't start to-night, of course. It's too late, and there's a storm going up there besides. But to-morrow morning--" He looked up at the cliff and frowned. "Perhaps Tuesday can make it. If he balks, you've got to do it on foot. The mountain let you pa.s.s once. Maybe it will spare you again. Maybe! G.o.d knows! But it's your only chance. I'm done for, and can't help you. It's sure death for you to stay here. It's sure death to try the trail into the Black Lake country. You have just one chance. You've got to take it to-morrow morning. And G.o.d help you for being such a fool!"

She heard him through, and smiled; and he noted, for his own information, that this smile of hers was getting on his nerves. What did she mean by it? There was something very superior about it, though very gentle and indulgent; and a thing or two she had said to him before flashed back into his mind. Was she trying to mother him? The thought made him angry.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Of course I'll not go!" she said simply.

"You will go!" he retorted wrathfully.

She knelt quickly at his side, and took one of his hands between both her own.