When she wakened with a start it was morning. A faint light sifted
through the single window of the shack. Sheba whispered to the older
woman that she was going out for a little walk.
"Be careful, dearie," advised Mrs. Olson. "I wouldn't try to go too
far."
Sheba smiled to herself at the warning. It was not likely that she would
go far enough to get lost with all these millions of tons of snow piled
up around her in every direction.
She had come out because she was restless and was tired of the dingy
and uncomfortable room. Without any definite intentions, she naturally
followed the trail that Swiftwater had broken the day before. No wind
stirred and the sky was clear. But it was very cold. The sun would not
be up for half an hour.
As she worked her way down the gulch Sheba wondered whether the news of
their loss had reached Kusiak. Were search parties out already to rescue
them? Colby Macdonald had gone out into the blizzard years ago to save
her father. Perhaps he might have been out all night trying to save her
father's daughter. Peter would go, of course,--and Gordon Elliot. The
work in the mines would stop and men would volunteer by scores. That was
one fine thing about the North.
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