"Whatever you say. I'm afraid I couldn't ride much further tonight."
"Look up at me."
She raised her head.
"No; you're all in. But you've made a game ride. I never dreamed there
was so much iron in you. We'll make our fire just inside the trees and
carry water up from the river, eh?"
A scanty growth of the evergreens walked over the hills and skirted
along the valley, leaving a broad, sandy waste in the center where the
river at times swelled with melted snow or sudden rains and rushed
over the lower valley in a broad, muddy flood.
At the edge of the forest he picketed the horses in a little open
space carpeted with wet, dead grass. It took him some time to find dry
wood. So he wrapped her in blankets and left her sitting on a saddle.
As the chill left her body she began to grow delightfully drowsy, and
vaguely she heard the crack of his hatchet. He had found a rotten
stump and was tearing off the wet outer bark to get at the dry
wood within.
After that it was only a moment before a fire sputtered feebly and
smoked at her feet.
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