Nell made her preparations swiftly. At her order, the dogs were harnessed to the sled, and were ready at the door of the hotel, as she issued forth. The news that the murderer's bride was about to start out, spread through the village like wild-fire. The sheriff himself appeared on the scene, as Nell was at the point of departure. He shook his head dolefully; but, to the girl's immense relief, he did not offer to detain her.
THE DOGS WERE READY—AT THE DOOR OF THE HOTEL—AS SHE ISSUED FORTH.
"I dunno," he remarked doubtfully, "what you git by goin', an' I dunno neither what you'd git by stayin', fer the matter o' that.
"Anyhow, a wife can't testify agin her husband, so I hain't got any call to hang on to ye."
That was his valedictory.
Nell wasted neither words nor smiles on the assembly. She had no kindly feeling toward these men, who had dared accuse her husband of crime. Her sole response to the sheriff's statement was a crack of the whip and a lively cry to the dogs, which leaped forward with a speed and surety of movement in the splendidly muscled bodies that made the watchers exclaim admiringly.
There was now no leisurely progress, such as had been that with which she and her husband had traversed the miles together, before death brought tragedy to their bridal-journey. Nell, in two years of her living in the North, had learned the management of these animals, on which transportation over the snowy expanses of the Arctic so depends. She knew well how to get from her team every ounce of speed, and she did not spare them in the least. The crust still held, so that the going was of the best. Mechanically, with the instinct that develops quickly in those who live among the wilds, Nell had noted each salient detail of the route followed by her and Jack. So, now, she was sure of her course, and drove the dogs at full speed on and on, following the levels of interwoven valleys with never a hint of hesitation.
It was late afternoon when, at last, Nell found herself passing along the valley where they had lingered behind the line of the stampede. Hope mounted higher here; for only a few miles still separated her from the man whose aid she sought.
In turn, despair smote her at thought of the possibility that this Mr. Maxwell might be absent—might even not return that night. She had a dreadful vision of Jack, escaped from his prison, yet helpless, without dogs or supplies, doomed to perish in the cold. She resolved that, should other help be wanting, she herself would return alone to meet him. She took a little encouragement from this determination, until it occurred to her that there were limits to the endurance of the dogs. Then, again, desolation fell on her. But, at least, they would be together!... Thus, her thoughts rioted in the stress of anxiety.