their waists; and this beneficent fluid they
used with that sense of appreciation which
only a pioneer can feel toward whiskey. It
was hours before Catherine rewarded them
with a gleam of consciousness. Her body
had been frozen in many places. Her arms,
outstretched over her children and holding
the clothes down about them, were rigid.
But consciousness came at length, dimly
struggling up through her brain; and over
her she saw her friends rubbing and rubbing
those strong firm arms of hers with snow.

She half raised her head, with a horror of
comprehension in her eyes, and listened. A
cry answered her, -- a cry of dull pain from
the baby. Henderson dropped on his knees
beside her.

"They are all safe," he said. "And we
will never leave you again. I have been
afraid to tell you how I love you. I thought
I might offend you. I thought I ought to
wait -- you know why. But I will never let
you run the risks of this awful life alone
again. You must rename the baby. From
this day his name is John. And we will
have the three Johns again back at the old
ranch. It doesn't matter whether you love
me or not, Catherine, I am going to take