Yet his uneasiness did not leave him. As the hours passed and the afternoon lengthened, the invisible something urged him more strongly to take the trail beyond the cottonwoods, with Mary Standish at his side. Twice he saw her between noon and five o’clock, and by that time his writing was done. He looked at his guns carefully. He saw that his favorite rifle and automatic were working smoothly, and he called himself a fool for filling his ammunition vest with an extravagant number of cartridges. He even carried an amount of this ammunition and two of his extra guns to Sokwenna’s cabin, with the thought that it was this cabin on the edge of the ravine which was best fitted for defense in the event of necessity. Possibly Stampede might have use for it, and for the guns, if Graham should come after he and Mary were well on their way to Nome.
After supper, when the sun was throwing long shadows from the edge of the horizon, Alan came from a final survey of his cabin and the food which Wegaruk had prepared for his pack, and found Mary at the edge of the ravine, watching the twilight gathering where the coulée ran narrower and deeper between the distant breasts of the tundra.
“I am going to leave you for a little while,” he said. “But Sokwenna has returned, and you will not be alone.”
“Where are you going?”
“As far as the cottonwoods, I think.”
“Then I am going with you.”
“I expect to walk very fast.”
“Not faster than I, Alan.”
“But I want to make sure the country is clear in that direction before twilight shuts out the distances.”
“I will help you.” Her hand crept into his. “I am going with you, Alan,” she repeated.