A short time later, when Pierce reappeared, clad in dry garments, he felt none the worse for his mishap, but when he undertook to aid in the preparations for the night he suspected that he had taken his employer's orders too literally, for his brain was whirling. Soon he discovered that his movements were awkward and his hands uncertain, and when his camp-mates began to joke he desisted with a laughing confession that he had imbibed too much.
Laure drew him out of hearing, then inquired, anxiously, "Are you all right again?"
"Sure! I feel great."
"I—I thought I'd die when I saw you disappear." She shuddered and hid her face in her hands for a second time. It was quite dark where they stood; they were sheltered from observation.
"Served me right," he declared. "Next time I'll look where—" He halted in amazement. "Why, Laure, I believe you're crying!"
She lifted her face and nodded. "I'm frightened yet." She laid trembling, exploratory hands upon him, as if to reassure herself of his safety. "Pierce! Pierce!" she exclaimed, brokenly.
Suddenly Phillips discovered that this girl's concern affected him deeply, for it was genuine—it was not in the least put on. All at once she seemed very near to him, very much a part of himself. His head was spinning now and something within him had quickened magically. There was a new note in his voice when he undertook to reassure his companion. At his first word Laure looked up, startled; into her dark eyes, still misty with tears, there flamed a light of wonder and of gladness. She swayed closer; she took the lapels of his coat between her gloved fingers and drew his head down to hers; then she kissed him full upon the lips. Slowly, resolutely, his arms encircled her.
On the following morning Laure asked Morris Best for a bottle of whisky. The evenings were growing cold and some of the girls needed a stimulant while camp was being pitched, she explained. The bottle she gave to Pierce, with a request to stow it in his baggage for safekeeping, and that night when they landed, cramped and chilly, she prevailed upon him to open it and to drink. The experiment worked. Laure began to understand that when Pierce Phillips' blood flowed warmly, when he was artificially exhilarated, then he saw her with the eyes of a lover. It was not a flattering discovery, but the girl contented herself, for by now she was desperate enough to snatch at straws. Thenceforth she counted upon strong drink as her ally.
The closing scenes of the great autumn stampede to Dawson were picturesque, for the rushing river was crowded with boats all racing with one another. 'Neath lowering skies, past ghostly shores seen dimly through a tenuous curtain of sifting snowflakes, swept these craft; they went by ones and by twos, in groups and in flotillas; hourly the swirling current bore them along, and as the miles grew steadily less the spirits of the crews mounted. Loud laughter, songs, yells of greeting and encouragement, ran back and forth; a triumphant joyfulness, a Jovian mirth, animated these men of brawn, for they had met the North and they had bested her. Restraint had dropped away by now, and they reveled in a new-found freedom. There was license in the air, for Adventure was afoot and the Unknown beckoned.
Urged on by oar and sweep, propelled by favoring breezes, the Argonauts pressed forward exultantly. At night their roaring camp-fires winked at one another like beacon lights along some friendly channel. Unrolling before them was an endless panorama of spruce and birch and cottonwood, of high hills white with snow, of unexplored valleys dark with promise. As the Yukon increased in volume it became muddy, singing a low, hissing song, as if the falling particles of snow melted on its surface and turned to steam.