"
"I thought this would happen," he said, indignantly. "After this
you sleep here."
"I sleep home." she said, doggedly.
"I won't have it," he declared. "I'll cook for the men myself
first."
"Allight," she replied. "You cookee; I go home--me."
That night there was a terrible storm. The wind howled down the
throat of the Pass, and the snow fell like bales of sheep's wool,
blanketing the trails and drifting into the railroad cuts until
they attained their original level. But after she had cooked supper
Catharine started for home as usual. The only unusual thing about
it was that the next morning she did not return. It was Sunday, the
men's day "off." Wingate ate no breakfast, but after swallowing
some strong tea he turned to the foreman. "Mr. Brown, will you come
with me to try and hunt up Catharine?" he asked.
"Yes, if we can get beyond the door," assented Brown. "But I doubt
if we can make the canyon, sir."
"We'll have a try at it, anyway," said the young engineer. "I
almost doubt myself if she made it last night."
"She's a stubborn woman," commented Brown.
"And has her own reasons for it, I suppose," replied Wingate. "But
that has nothing to do with her being lost or frozen.
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