In disgust Brent jumped out and started to tramp across the road and into the clump of trees, stripped now of all autumnal glory and black with the cold of early winter. The snow lay in deep drifts in several places and these Brent avoided to the best of his ability. He hoped he was still going in the right direction. That driver was as good as nothing. He had assured Brent he had heard of Bouchard’s cottage and with his hand had gestured widely to the right. That was as well as he could do.
The wind up here was cold and Brent buttoned his coat more tightly as best he could, using one hand. It put new life into one, though. The air was keen as a knife and the sky as clear as crystal water. Brent remembered the exhilaration he had experienced last night flying through the star-studded sky. It had been keen! But a most cruel reminder of his last flight with Gale. Then, too, in the beginning the stars had been close and friendly.
Brent halted in his stride and knit his brows in perplexity. Had the plane crash occurred near here? No, he corrected himself. It had been much farther south. How then, had Gale wandered way up here? He shook his head and went on.
Ahead a thin blue column of smoke drifted up from beyond a slight rise in ground. He redoubled his efforts. That must be Bouchard’s cottage. He came to the hill and leaned momentarily against a tree to get his breath, looking down at the log cabin and the open clearing before him.
A girl was romping with a dog. The same girl whom he had seen in the village. There could be no doubt, it was Gale. The way she lifted her head, the laugh that floated up to him when the dog in play nipped her fingers. All of them bespoke Gale. He stood there watching, for it was a charming scene. In the snow the dog and girl, when she suddenly stumbled over the former, rolled over and over.
When Gale sat up there was a glow in her cheeks and a laugh bubbled in her voice. Toto stood, legs slightly asprawl, gazing at her, his red tongue dangling from between white teeth, his eyes dancing with mischief. François appeared in the cabin doorway, leaning upon his improvised crutch. After a brief greeting to him Toto trotted back to Gale and put his front paws into her lap, looking up into her face with a doggy smile.
Brent started toward them and when Gale saw him she stood up, shaking the snow from her coat and attempting to straighten her disheveled cap. François had disappeared within the cabin again and from there came the sound of Antoinette, humming at her work.
“Gale—don’t you know me?” Brent asked, as soon as he was within speaking distance.
Gale merely stared at him. She recognized him as the strange young man who had called after them that morning in the village—but that was all!
“Gale! I’m Brent—surely you haven’t forgotten me!” he said, half laughing. He went toward her, seeking to touch her, but she eluded him.