Page:The trail of the golden horn.djvu/89

Rh speedily forward. Like a tired child she lay in those strong encircling arms. How often he had carried her when she was a child, and she had often admired his strength then. But now he seemed a veritable giant as he strode among the trees, crossed the wild meadow, and ascended the hill to the cabin.

In a few minutes Marion was lying upon the bunk. How good it was to be there, and how restful. She felt that she could sleep forever. It did not take Hugo long to stir up the few live coals in the stove, boil some water, and prepare a cup of tea. This, together with some ptarmigan broth he also warmed, proved most refreshing. The heat of the room was conducive to sleep, and before long she was in a sound slumber.

An expression of satisfaction shone upon Hugo’s face as he watched his sleeping daughter. He filled and lighted his pipe, and sat down upon a block of wood and leaned back against the wall on the opposite side of the stove. He could not see the girl’s face, as the one candle which was burning gave but a feeble flickering light. But he kept his eyes fixed in her direction, and his thoughts were deep. He was really happier than he had been for years. His own daughter was with him, the one for whom his heart had been crying out in all his lonely wanderings.

Throughout the rest of the night Hugo kept watch. He prepared and ate his frugal breakfast, and fed the dog. As daylight was stealing over the land, he left the cabin and made his way back to the encampment. The dogs were still there, huddled upon the robes in the lean-to. The wolves were lying just where they had fallen. Hugo glanced at the gaunt brutes as if appraising their worth.

“If I had time,” he mused, “I would take you to the