“Please listen. I’m Bella’s friend. I—oh, come back a moment.”
“Tell Borisoff—can’t hear with this infernal shrieking of the boulders. By the Lord!”—he raised himself on an elbow—“ten yards of this living, moving ice would hold Goliath back. And it’s sixty miles to the sea!”
She turned her wet face to the door again. The tossing boat out yonder seemed to go down before her eyes.
“Don’t let any one in!”
“No, no.” There it was again, like a toy boat dancing wildly before destruction.
“What I mind most,” the faint voice whispered, “is not holding out till—I got across to Alaska. All those months—all that sacrifice—all that suffering—and fail in such a little thing!”
“Why,” interrupted the girl, “why did you want to get to Alaska?”
“Why? I—I don’t seem to remember. There was a reason. But it’s too far.”
“You don’t mean—”
“I shall never get there now. Do you hear the music, Ky?”