"Oh God," she prayed, "lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee, and by Thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night, for the love of Thine only Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ."
"Amen. Amen. Amen," came from the miners, who with bowed and uncovered heads were standing reverently around her.
That was all she could utter. When she rose from her knees the men were bestirring themselves. Some had gone for more wood, while others were poking the fire. This latter work was unnecessary, but the men had to do something. The pathetic sight of the beautiful woman kneeling on the ground, offering up that fervent prayer, had touched their hearts, and more than one brushed their sleeves across their eyes when safe under the friendly cover of darkness.
The wood-gatherers had been gone but a short time when they came hurrying back much excited.
"They're coming! They're coming!" shouted one, "and I believe they've found them!"
The report was true, for soon a band of men slowly approached, bearing something between them.
Constance stepped quickly forward and scanned the faces of the men, and, oh joy! there before her stood Keith, with water dripping from his clothes, his wet hair streaming over his forehead and his face white and haggard.
He did not look upon the men, nor did he see the eager woman gazing so longingly upon him. He beheld only the prostrate form of Pete Martin lying by the fire. Intense agony was expressed in every line of his face as he stooped down and examined the unconscious man.
"Thank God! Oh, thank God!" he murmured, as he found the prospector's pulse still beating. "We must get him somewhere out of this," he continued, turning to the men. "He is alive and we may do something for him yet."
"Bring him to our cabin, Mr. Steadman," said Mr. Radhurst. "We will care for him."