Her young face was scarcely a woman's to-night, though she was a mother.

She looked like a child.
Old Pierre laughed as he threw down the last armful of fuel, and stood breathing hard.
"It was close, _ma cheri_" he panted through his white beard.

"We were nearer to death out there on the plain than we will ever be again, I hope.

But we are comfortable now, and warm.

Eh?
You are no longer afraid ?" He sat down beside his daughter, and gently pulled back the soft fur that enveloped the bundle she held in her arms.