"What possessed ye not to tell me?"

"Why should I tell you? We buried the wedding-day months back, in the
snow."

"Boy, boy!" the packer groaned.

"What difference can it make now?"

"_All_ the difference--all the difference there is! I thought you were out
here touring it with them fool boys and they were all the chance you had
for help outside. You suppose her father is going to see her git left?
_They_'ll get in here, if they have to crawl on their bellies or climb
through the tree-limbs. They know how! And we've wasted the grub and
talked like a couple of women!"

"Oh, don't--don't torment me!" Paul groaned. "It was all over. Can't you
leave the dead in peace!"

"We are not the dead! I 'most wish we were. Boy, I've got a big word to
say to you about that. Come closer!" The packer's speech hoarsened and
failed. They could only hear each other breathe. Then it seemed to the
packer that his was the only breath in the darkness. He listened. A faint
cheer arose in the forest and a crashing of the dead underlimbs of the
pines.

He turned frantically upon his son, but no pledge could be extorted now.
Paul's lips were closed. He had lost consciousness.