ALONE The frost held for two days, and the men made small progress through the dusty snow.

On the third it grew softer as they floundered wearily down into a valley, and Seaforth was aching in every limb when at last they halted at the edge of a river.

Not far below them it plunged frothing into a gloomy canon, and the roar of its turmoil came out of the thin white vapour which curled through the stupendous portals of stream-worn stone.

Seaforth felt moist and generally uncomfortable, as well as weary, for it was humid and a trifle warmer now, while his long boots were soaked, and at every step he dragged after him a clogging weight of snow.

He leaned against a cedar, glad to rest a while, and glanced inquiringly at his comrade.
Alton, however, showed no sign of fatigue.