A few miles farther down they would come
to a main-traveled road and the going would be better. But till then she
must walk. Macdonald gave way with a gesture of his hand and turned on
his heel.
At the camp-fire Sheba dried her mukluks, stockings, caribou mitts, and
short skirts. Too tired to eat, she forced herself to swallow a few
bites and drank eagerly some tea. Gordon had brought blankets from the
sled and he persuaded her to lie down for a few minutes.
"You'll call me soon if I should sleep," she said drowsily, and her eyes
were closed almost before the words were off her lips.
When Macdonald came to order the start half an hour later, she was still
asleep. "Give her another thirty minutes," he said gruffly.
Youth is resilient. Sheba awoke rested and ready for work.
While Gordon was untangling the dogs she was left alone for a minute
with the mine-owner.
The hungry look in his eyes touched her. Impulsively she held out her
hand.
"You're going to be fair, aren't you, Mr. Macdonald? Because you--don't
like him--you won't--?"
He looked straight into the dark, appealing eyes. "I'm going to be fair
to Robert Milton," he told her harshly. "I'm going to see his murderers
hanged if it costs me every dollar I have in the world.
Pages:
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304