Seaforth had indeed roused himself several times with a jerk when Okanagan pointed to the roll of blankets and layer of springy twigs, and he saw that at last Alton was sleeping restfully.

Five minutes later the roar of the branches seemed to sink into a musical lullaby, and the last thing he saw was the big, impassive bushman sitting as still as the motionless figure beneath him on the opposite side of the tent.

Then he was wafted back to England on the wings of dreams.
It was broad daylight and warmer when he awakened.

Outside the fire crackled noisily, and the great pines rose spires of sombre green against a field of white.

Alton was also awake, and smiled at him, while Tom, who stood behind him, made a sign.
"It has got to be done right now before the frost comes back, but we're not going to hurt you, Harry," he said.