Was he still dreaming?
The fire was burning brightly and he was aware that he had scarce fallen into sleep.
A movement--a sound of feet crunching softly in the snow, and a figure came between him and the fire.
It was a woman.
He choked back the cry that rose to his lips and sat motionless and without sound.

The figure approached a step nearer, peering into the deep gloom of the tent.

He caught the silver glint in the firelight on heavy fur, the whiteness of a hand touching lightly the flap of his tent, and then for an instant he saw a face.

In that instant he sat as rigid as if he had stopped the beat of his own life.

A pair of dark eyes laughing in at him, a flash of laughing teeth, a low titter that was scarce more than a rippling throat-note, and the face was gone, leaving him still staring into the blank space where it had been.
With a cough to give warning of his wakefulness, Steele flung off his blanket and drew himself through the low opening of the tent.