Twice the man turned and glanced back into the valley, but saw nothing except the black blotches on the snow.

Molly made no motion, no outcry.

She preferred death there alone, rather than rescue at his hands.

Scarcely conscious, feeling no strength in her limbs, no hope pulsing at her heart, she closed her eyes and lay still.

Yet wrapped about as she was, her young body remained warm, and the very disappearance of Dupont yielded a sense of freedom, awoke a strong desire to live.