And she had no mind to allow his
personality to sweep her off her feet in the same determined manner
that he had carried her into the wilderness. She was no longer afraid
of him. She occasionally forgot, in spite of herself, that she had a
deep-seated grievance against him. At such times the wild land, the
changing vistas the journey opened up, charmed her into genuine
enjoyment. She would find herself smiling at Bill's quaint tricks of
speech. Then she would recollect that she was, to all intents and
purposes, a prisoner, the captive of his bow and spear. That was
maddening.
After a lapse of time they dropped into another valley, and faced
westward to a mountain range which Bill told her was the Rockies. The
next day a snowstorm struck them. At daybreak the clouds were massed
overhead, lowering, and a dirty gray. An uncommon chill, a rawness of
atmosphere foretold the change. And shortly after they broke camp the
first snowflakes began to drift down, slowly at first, then more
rapidly, until the grayness of the sky and the misty woods were
enveloped in the white swirl of the storm. It was not particularly
cold. Bill wrapped her in a heavy canvas coat, and plodded on.
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