But she did no more than open the book; for her eyes strayed out and
over the Yukon to the eddy below the bluffs, and the bend above, and
the tail of the spit which lay in the midst of the river. The rescue
and the race were still fresh with her, though there were strange
lapses, here and there, of which she remembered little. The struggle
by the fissure was immeasurable; she knew not how long it lasted; and
the race down Split-up to Roubeau Island was a thing of which her
reason convinced her, but of which she recollected nothing.
The whim seized her, and she followed Corliss through the three days'
events, but she tacitly avoided the figure of another man whom she
would not name. Something terrible was connected therewith, she knew,
which must be faced sooner or later; but she preferred to put that
moment away from her. She was stiff and sore of mind as well as of
body, and will and action were for the time being distasteful. It was
more pleasant, even, to dwell on Tommy, on Tommy of the bitter tongue
and craven heart; and she made a note that the wife and children in
Toronto should not be forgotten when the Northland paid its dividends
to the Welse.
The crackle of a foot on a dead willow-twig roused her, and her eyes
met St. Vincent's.
"You have not congratulated me upon my escape," he began, breezily.
"But you must have been dead-tired last night.
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