Daily Hardy’s strength was increasing.
Longer each day he sat in the big chair before the crackling fire; then a few steps farther until he could reach the door.
Constantly his thoughts revolved around the man who had stayed with him, brought him through this siege.
The weeks dragged by until a month had passed since Morely’s departure.
The weather settled fine, clear, with brilliant sunshine. The white world glittered and sparkled like a sea of flashing jewels.
“I’m strong enough now. If I had dogs I should have left a week ago.”
Hardy stood in the open door of the cabin gazing across the country. Far down the trail came several dark specks. Gradually the specks took on shape and substance, became a moving team of dogs, with sled, and a man at the gee-pole.
Opposite the cabin the team turned, made their way to the little building.
“Don’t come too near. Smallpox!” he shouted.
Steadily the half-breed came on. When near the cabin he paused.