Page:The trail of the golden horn.djvu/128

124 weary sigh, Marion opened her eyes and looked absently into his face.

“Marion! Marion!” he cried. “Don’t you know me? It is your own John. Speak to me, and tell me if you are hurt.”

Slowly the girl’s senses returned. Seeing who it was bending over her, a slight smile overspread her face, and her lips moved, although she uttered no sound.

Leaving her, North piled more sticks upon the fire. He next cut down an extra supply of boughs, with which he fashioned a cozy little lean-to about his loved one. For a while she paid no heed to what he was doing. Her eyes, however, followed his movements, and at last she called faintly to him. With a bound the sergeant was at her side, kneeling upon the robe and bending tenderly over her.

“Where am I?” Marion asked.

“Right here with me,” North replied. “You are safe.”

“What happened, John? I thought the world had come to an end.”

“It was a snow-slide. But we were wonderfully delivered, just how I do not know now. Are you hurt, dear?”

“No, I guess not. I am only very weak. But where is the constable?”

Then seeing the anxious expression which swept over the sergeant’s face, she quickly continued: “Oh, I know. He was carried away. Isn’t it terrible!”

“It certainly is, Marion. I am afraid the poor fellow was swept down in that wild rush. It was almost a miracle that we escaped as we did. Another second and it would have been too late.”

For a few heart-beats there was silence, their minds