As he came down the trail he had broken, with a pack on his back, the man
heard her birdlike carol in the clear frosty air. He emptied his chest in
a deep shout, and she was instantly at the window, waving him a welcome
with her dust-rag.
"I thought you were never coming," she cried from the open door as he came
up the path.
Her eyes were starry in their eagerness. Every sensitive feature was alert
with interest, so that the man thought he had never seen so mobile and
attractive a face.
"Did it seem long?" he asked.
"Oh, weeks and weeks! You must be frozen to an icicle. Come in and get
warm."
"I'm as warm as toast," he assured her.
He was glowing with exercise and the sting of the cold, for he had tramped
two miles through drifts from three to five feet deep, battling with them
every step of the way, and carrying with him on the return trip a box of
provisions.
"With all that snow on you and the pack on your back, it's like Santa
Claus," she cried, clapping her hands.
"Before we're through with the adventure we may think that box a sure
enough gift from Santa," he replied.
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