But Big Jim’s time to die had not yet come. When he had found himself going, he had had the presence of mind to draw a fold of the deerskin over his face, holding it with a crooking arm. He was all but asphyxiated when they dragged him out of his snowy grave, but the fresh air soon revived him; apart from a wrenched ankle owed to the too-well fastened ski, he seemed to be unhurt.
None the less, back in the cabin and hovering over a roaring fire in an attempt to thaw himself out, the big man began to shake as if in an ague fit, paying the penalty of his violent exertions in a teeth-rattling chill. In buying the winter’s supplies in Leadville, Bromley had included a bottle of whiskey for emergencies. Philip searched for the bottle in the wrecked storeroom, found it unbroken, and poured a drink for Garth. The effect was magical. The chill subsided and Garth begged for another drink, the single potation making him loose-tongued and volubly eloquent. Philip said “no” firmly, and hid the bottle; after which, with Bromley’s help, he got Garth out of his wet clothes and into his bunk.
The giant fell asleep at once, or seemed to; and after deciding that the buckled cabin roof would hold until they could have daylight for its unloading, the two who were still stirring dried themselves out before the fire, covered the embers and went to bed. When they awoke, the sun was shining in at the single small window of the cabin, and Garth was still asleep, or he appeared to be. But the empty whiskey bottle lying on the earthen floor beside his bunk told another story.
“Look at that! There’s your ‘rough diamond’—dead drunk!” Philip commented scornfully, sitting up in his bed and pointing across to the comatose figure in the opposite bunk. “He was only shamming after we put him to bed last night. He waited until we were asleep and then got up and found the liquor. I have no use for a man who has no more self-control or decency than that!”
But the play-boy was shaking his head.
“‘Touching the righteousness which is in the law, blameless’,” he quoted sardonically. “That’s you, Philip. It’s a gruesome thing to have lived such a truly good life oneself that one can’t light a little candle of charity for the poor sinners. I can’t forget that Big Jim risked his life last night—and nearly lost it—to save us from being turned out homeless and starving in this howling desert. Let’s get a bite to eat and unload this roof while he’s sleeping it off.”
X
With the threat of the snow slides definitely removed, the routine of ore-digging was resumed. Deeper and deeper the tunnel was driven into the mountain, and each day saw the accumulation of ore and broken rock on the dump grow in proportion. Nothing was said by any one of the three about Garth’s night raid on the whiskey bottle; but Philip’s attitude toward the big miner was stiffer for the lapse—as Bromley’s was gentler. Since there was no more liquor in the stores, there were no more lapses; and no fault could be found with the way Garth spent himself in the drilling and shovelling, the ore-carrying and sorting.
After a fortnight of bright sunshine in January, with a thaw that merely compacted the surface of the great snow blanket without perceptibly thinning it, the cold weather came again; there were night temperatures that made the green logs of the cabin walls crack and snap with sounds like pistol shots, and the clay chinkings became broad lines of hoar frost—this though the fire on the hearth was never allowed to die down. With an ample supply of fuel they suffered little from the cold; but by the middle of February the provisions were running very low. Bromley’s turn at the cooking came in the final week of the month, and it was he who found the bottom of their last sack of potatoes.
“We can kiss the dear old Murphys good-by with this supper,” he announced cheerfully, as he shook up and salted the last boiling in the pot; adding: “And everything else in the chuck-hole is going the same way,” Then to Garth: “You know a lot more about these mountain winters than we do, Jim. How long is it going to be before we can break trail for Leadville?”