CHAPTER XXXII

oralong,woodlandtramp,sayinghewouldbebackbydarkifallwentwell.Soonafterhehadgoneithadbeguntosnow.ThewindroseandpresentlyMistawiswasinthegripofoneoftheworststormsofthewinter.Ittoreupthelakeandstruckatthelittlehouse.ThedarkangrywoodsonthemainlandscowledatValancy,menaceinthetossoftheirboughs,threatsintheirwindygloom,terrorintheroaroftheirhearts.Thetreesontheislandcrouchedinfear.Valancyspentthenighthuddledontherugbeforethefire,herfaceburiedinherhands,whenshewasnotvainlypeeringfromtheorielinafutileefforttoseethroughthefurioussmokeofwindandsnowthathadoncebeenblue-dimpledMistawis.WherewasBarney?Lostonthemercilesslakes?Sinkingexhaustedinthedriftsofthepathlesswoods?ValancydiedahundreddeathsthatnightandpaidinfullforallthehappinessofherBlueCastle.WhenmorningcamethestormbrokeandclearedthesunshonegloriouslyoverMistawisandatnoonBarneycamehome.Valancysawhimfromtheorielashecamearoundawoodedpoint,slenderandblackagainsttheglisteningwhiteworld.Shedidnotruntomeethim.SomethinghappenedtoherkneesandshedroppeddownonBanjo’schair.LuckilyBanjogotoutfromunderintime,hiswhiskersbristlingwithindignation.Barneyfoundherthere,herheadburiedinherhands. “Barney,Ithoughtyouweredead,”shewhispered. Barneyhooted. “AftertwoyearsoftheKlondikedidyouthinkababystormlikethiscouldgetme?IspentthenightinthatoldlumbershantyoverbyMuskoka.Abitcoldbutsnugenough.Littlegoose!Youreyeslooklikeburntholesinablanket.Didyousituphereallnightworryingoveranoldwoodsmanlikeme?” “Yes,”saidValancy.“I—couldn’thelpit.Thestormseemedsowild.Anybodymighthavebeenlostinit.When—Isawyou—comeroundthepoint—there—somethinghappenedtome.Idon’tknowwhat.ItwasasifIhaddiedandcomebacktolife.Ican’tdescribeitanyotherway.”