They went on a trifle faster without another word, and presently, with crackle of dry twigs beneath them, plodded into the bush. Dim trees flitted by them, branches brushed them as they passed, and the stillness and shadowiness affected Miss Schuyler uncomfortably. She started with a cry when there was a sharp patter amidst the dusty snow; but Clavering’s hand was on the bridle as the horse, snorting, flung up its head.
“I think it was only a jack-rabbit; and I can see the shelter now,” he said.
A few moments later he helped Miss Schuyler down, and held out his hand to Hetty, who sprang stiffly to the ground. Then, with numbed fingers, he broke off and struck a sulphur match, and the feeble flame showed the refuge to which he had brought them. It was just high enough to stand in, and had three sides and a roof of birch logs, but the front was open and the soil inside it frozen hard as adamant. An axe and a saw stood in a corner, and there was a hearth heaped ready with kindling chips.
“If you will wait here I’ll try to get some wood,” he said.
He went out and tethered the horses, and when his footsteps died away, Miss Schuyler shivering crept closer to Hetty, who flung an arm about her.
“It’s awful, Flo—and it’s my fault,” she said. Then she sighed. “It would all be so different if Larry was only here.”
“Still,” said Flora Schuyler, “Mr. Clavering has really behaved very well; most men would have shown just a little temper.”
“I almost wish he had—it would have been so much easier for me to have kept mine and overlooked it graciously. Flo, I didn’t mean to be disagreeable, but it’s quite hard to be pleasant when one is in the wrong.”
It was some time before Clavering came back with an armful of birch branches, and a suspiciously reddened gash in one of his moccasins—for an axe ground as the Michigan man grinds it is a dangerous tool for anyone not trained to it to handle in the dark. In ten minutes he had a great fire blazing, and the shivering girls felt their spirits revive a little under the cheerful light and warmth. Then, he made a seat of the branches close in to the hearth and glanced at them anxiously.
“If you keep throwing wood on, and sit there with the furs wrapped round you, you will be able to keep the cold out until I come back,” he said.