joe mixer and his men sat up late counting the golden harvest they expected to reap; consequently next morning the sun was high in the sky before the fat man woke. the instant consciousness returned to him the thought of "gold!" sprang up in his mind as if written in letters of the metal. he sat up knuckling the sleep from his eyes. instead of the breakfast that usually awaited him, he saw crusoe and stack still slumbering beside him. he awakened them with no gentle urgency.

"what's the matter with you!" he bawled with his own picturesque expletives. "it's past six o'clock, and we were going to start at five!"

crusoe, the cook, looked around him in a dazed way. "the breed said he'd wake me," he said; "i left it to him."

they saw philippe's tumbled blanket on the ground beyond stack. "he's gone off, damn him!" cried joe. "hunting a puny rabbit most like! they're all alike! look sharp with the breakfast!"

while crusoe cooked, joe and stack collected and packed the camp impedimenta. in his eagerness to get away, the fat man was as active as a stripling. when breakfast was ready, and the half-breed had not yet returned, his anger was boundless. the camp atmosphere was lurid. as yet he did not suspect any treachery, for as a result of his experience with the race he had withheld philippe's pay, and even a breed does not run off with money owing him. besides, he had left his good blanket behind him.

after breakfast they scattered to look for him, awaking the forest with their hails. crusoe found tracks made that morning in the ravine. joe and stack joined him, and they followed the tracks toward the mouth of the cave.

"maybe he got up early to get in ahead of us," said stack, paling at his own suggestion.

"by gad! if he has——" cried joe.

but the tracks led them beyond the drift-pile.

"it's game he's after," said joe, reassured.

crusoe, who was a pace in advance, had stopped, and was examining the creek bed attentively. "there's another track here," he said suddenly; "a small foot—a woman's foot! that's his game!"

the three men looked at each other with growing suspicions. "get along after them!" cried joe harshly.

but none of them moved. they had become aware simultaneously of a curious rumbling sound high above them. it approached with terrific swiftness, ending with a mighty crash above, that caused each man instinctively to make himself small, and guard his head with his arms. a great boulder leaped across the ravine, high over their heads, and smashed into the forest on the other side.

of one accord the three turned and fled down the ravine, little stack in advance, leaping from stone to stone like an antelope. a shower of pebbles peppered their heads and shoulders harmlessly. outside the danger zone they halted.

"by gad! that was a close shave!" said joe, wiping his face. "they say those stones just naturally work themselves loose on the mountain, and no man can tell when they'll fall!"

"maybe somebody started it," suggested stack. his teeth were chattering.

panic seized them again. they did not stop running until they had climbed the bank of the ravine, and stood in their own camp. from this point nearly the whole of the mountain side was visible. they searched it excitedly.

"it's true!" cried stack at last. "i see him! i see two of them up there!"

"my binoculars!" shouted joe.

his hands shook, and it took him a long time to focus the glasses. stack stood at his elbow instructing him shrilly where to look. crusoe stood with hanging jaw, looking up like a clown.

immediately above the entrance to the cave there was a precipitous cliff some seventy-five or a hundred feet high. on top of that was a flat ledge or terrace reaching back. the floor of this terrace was hidden from them, but behind it rose a long, steep bare slide of rubble fully two thousand feet in the air, ending in a ridge or hog-back of broken rock-masses, which extended up at right angles to the base of the final peak of naked rock, the thumb. it was upon the ridge, working among the rock-masses with pine poles for levers, that stack's sharp eyes had spotted the two tiny figures.

joe finally got them within the field of his glasses. a frightful rage took possession of him. his face turned purple. he frothed at the mouth and stamped on the ground like a madman. stack slyly took the binoculars out of his hand or he would have dashed them to the ground. from his broken exclamations and curses the others gathered that he had recognized philippe and nahnya. stack satisfied himself as to the identity of the figures.

another great stone started to roll down the gigantic slide. they saw it coming before they heard the noise of its passage. they gazed fascinated. as it gathered its terrific way it started to leap higher and higher in the air like a mad elf. it struck the rock ledge with a deafening crash, and like its predecessor bounded high over the ravine and shattered the trees on the other side. the force suggested by the soaring of these tons of matter lightly through the air struck awe into the souls of the beholders. the silence following the final crash of the projectile was broken by a long, dull rumble of the smaller stones displaced in its course. a long cloud of yellow dust arose behind it.

other rocks, small and large, followed. stack, through the binoculars, watched the two on the height working desperately with their levers. joe mixer had exhausted himself in his transports. he now looked up dumb and suffering with rage, his thick lips snarling and his nails pressed into his palms. suddenly a light broke on his face, and he cried out:

"there's no danger! the cliff makes a screen. look, how all the rocks jump clear of the gulch. come on back!"

stack had seen this before, but had kept it to himself. both stack and crusoe turned white with terror at the thought of venturing up the ravine beneath that bombardment.

"you white-livered cowards!" cried joe; "you skulkers! you shivering curs! i'll go alone! and i'll keep what i find!"

no one denied joe mixer brute courage. paying no more attention to the descent of the rocks, he methodically separated a portion of their food for himself, and rolling it within his blanket, strapped the pack on his back. fastening a belt of ammunition around his waist, he picked up his rifle, and went doggedly down the bank and up the bed of the ravine. all the gold in the world would not have tempted the others to follow.

while he was in the ravine the two on the mountain succeeded in wresting loose a bigger mass of rock than any before. it came down with a frightful impetus. the noise of its coming leaped out of nothingness and stunned the ears. when it struck the ledge of rock they felt the shock below. joe crouched under a boulder. the mass made a gaping wound in the forest where it earthed itself.

the succeeding rumble from above did not subside, but slowly deepened and increased in volume. stack, looking up, saw an incredible, an insupportable sight, as in some hideous nightmare. the whole face of the mountain was in motion. he screamed, and cast himself on his face, covering his head with his thin arms. crusoe followed his example. joe, hearing the ominous sounds above his head, wavered. the shrill sound of terror decided him. he started to run back down the ravine, but too late. a cataract of broken rocks came pouring over the lip of the cliff.

when jim sholto found ralph that morning he saw at a glance that he had a desperately sick man to deal with. the exertion and the terrible excitement following too soon upon his fever had brought about a relapse. jim carried him into camp, and kitty did what little she could for his comfort. humanity forbade jim's leaving her alone with the patient, though he chafed to be away with the other men after the gold. to this he owed his life.

they were attending to ralph when they heard the fall of the first stone. it was a sound they were not unfamiliar with in their own camp, and caused them no perturbation. when several others followed in close succession, jim looked up.

"that's funny!" he said. "i never knew so many to fall together."

a minute later they heard stack's scream. jim jumped up.

"somebody's caught!" he said grimly.

"don't go!" cried kitty sharply.

she had no need to speak. jim was rooted to the spot. "a whole landslide!" he murmured.

during the next few seconds chaos succeeded. there was a rushing sound as of millions of great wings beating the air, and a shock under which the earth rocked nauseatingly. the uproar was such that human ear could not encompass it. it was like mountainous seas breaking over their heads. kitty and her father clutched the earth. it shook under their bodies like a jelly. ralph knew nothing of what was happening. a tremendous silence succeeded, broken only by the detached tapping of falling rocks here and there. then a brief, terrible wind swept screaming through the forest and was gone. a strange, thick, yellow fog stole among the tree trunks; it left an acrid taste in the nostrils.

as soon as the uproar subsided jim was for going to see what had happened. kitty clung to him hysterically. not until half an hour had passed would she let him leave her, and then only upon his repeated assurances that no further disturbance was likely to occur for the present. anything that had not been shaken loose by that terrible shock would stick, he said. kitty herself refused to leave ralph.

jim had not gone two hundred yards before he began to meet with evidences of the cataclysm in the scattered rocks and broken trees. a little farther on he came to the edge of the flood of rocks that had poured down from the mountain, obliterating the forest up to this point. he circled the base of the gigantic heap until he came to a point where he could overlook the entire height. this was on the edge of the ravine behind joe mixer's camp.

jim stood, struck to the soul with amazement. the genii had waved their wands and the face of the earth was changed. there was no stream below him; above where he stood there was no longer any gulch or any cliff rising above it. the mountain had stepped forward and stamped them out. a great new spur of raw rubble reeking with yellow dust now reached across in front of him, blotting out the forest like grass as far as he could see on that side. the entrance to the bowl of the mountains was somewhere under the middle of the mountain; no man could tell now where it had been, so complete was the change. joe mixer's camp had not been in the direct line of the slide, but tons and tons of rock had overflowed at the sides like a liquid, and the place where the fire had been was drowned fathoms deep.

jim remembered the scream they had heard. "nothing to do here!" he thought grimly. he returned to kitty.

nahnya and philippe reached a little plateau of rock after a long climb, and sat down to breathe themselves. their faces were calm. for the moment they were concerned only with their journey. on every side great snowy peaks looked down on them over each other's shoulders. the white fields dipped almost to the level where they sat. behind them, and far below, the forest ended in the throat of a valley; before them lay a shallower valley of a bleak aspect. it supported only a little scrub and a variegated carpet of moss, and the gorges on either hand were choked with ice.

"this is a divide," nahnya said. she spoke in cree. "st. jean bateese tell me this trail. the water out of that valley go to the burning river, he say. it is five days' journey from here."

"i have heard of that river," said philippe. "it goes to the place of the rising sun, and joins with the great river of the ice."

the sun had disappeared some time since behind the peaks on their left hand. philippe cast a look at the threatening sky. "it will rain to-night," he said. "let us go down. there is nothing here to make a shelter. there is no wood for a fire."

"wait a little," nahnya said. "we must talk—what we do after."

her simple-sounding words had an electric effect. both faces changed subtly; hers became wary; his sullen. they avoided each other's eyes.

"we will do what comes," said philippe, feigning unconcern. "we will walk to the burning river, and make a raft and float to the great river of the ice. then we can go where we want."

"you know what i mean," said nahnya quietly. "why waste talk?"

philippe's eyes suddenly blazed up. "you are mine now!" he said.

"not yet," said nahnya coolly. "i say you can come with me if you want. i make no promise."

"you are mine!" repeated philippe louder. "there is nothing to say!"

"there is much to say!" said nahnya, with a direct look. "if you lay hands on me without i give you leave, i will kill you!"

there was a short, fierce struggle between the two pairs of eyes. the man's eyes gave way.

"i not want quarrel with you," said nahnya presently, in a softened voice. "you helped me very much. i have a kindness for you."

his eyes stole back to her face furtively and humbly.

"i will marry you if you want," nahnya went on. "because i have learned a girl cannot be alone. and i have no people now. i will make you a good wife if you want me. i will always work hard. i will try to make you a rich, big man. but first the truth must be told."

"what truth?" muttered philippe.

"i do not love you," she said.

"this is white people's talk," said philippe. "what is love? you marry me. you keep my lodge."

"i love the white man," nahnya said firmly.

he sprang up with a threatening gesture. in his simplicity he thought she was baiting him. his face was dark with wounded self-love.

nahnya's eyes held his unflinchingly. "if you strike me i not stop loving him," she said.

the youth was no match for her. his eyes could not support the strong light behind hers. he turned away muttering.

"do you want to marry me?" nahnya asked after a while.

he turned on her with the violent upbraiding of a man's jealousy, which is much the same, cree or english. nahnya saw that he had misunderstood what she meant by "love." interrupting him, she made the point clear.

"no man has had me!" she proudly concluded.

he scowled, regarding her doubtfully. the boastful male in him was loath to confess it, but he was like wax in her hands.

"red and white cannot mate together," nahnya said, with her strange, fatalistic calmness. "he is gone away. i will never see him again."

"swear it!" demanded philippe.

she raised her hand. "i swear it!" she said, without a tremor.

he was much comforted. he scowled still, not knowing what to say.

"do you want to marry me?" she asked again.

it was a kind of stricken look that he turned on her. "i want to marry you," he murmured.

"there is my hand," said nahnya. "deal straight with me, and i will do all that i say."

he fondled her hand clumsily.

nahnya's eyes became kindly. "you were a good boy at the school," she said. "it was good talk that we talked together. why do you want to be called a bad man now, and not work, and drink, and make trouble everywhere?"

"i will tell you why i change," said philippe boastfully. "i go among the white men, thinking to find my brothers. my father was a white man, and married to my mother in church. but they think little of me because my skin is dark. they treat me like a slave, and give me hard work and little pay like a slave. so i hate them. i am bad! i make all the trouble i can:

"white men only laugh at a bad man," said nahnya, "and put him in jail. you are going to make yourself a wise, big man now."

philippe's self-love made its last stand. "i am a man," he said scowling. "it is not for a woman to tell me what to do."

nahnya made no answer. she was playing with some bits of broken stone.

"i will be the master in my own lodge!" philippe said louder. "you will work and keep quiet!"

"if you want me to live with you, you must live straight," said nahnya, with an ominous softness. "you think it is fun to be a bad man. it is not fun to be a bad man's wife!"

"i will do what i want!" said philippe boastfully.

"look!" said nahnya, pointing to the stones she had been arranging. "here i have made the sign of the cross. kneel, and put your right hand on it, and swear to live straight!"

philippe laughed. nahnya rose to her feet with the same dangerously quiet air. she did not look at him. anxiety began to undermine his scornful smile.

"what are you going to do?" he asked sullenly.

"swear!" she said. "or i will jump off this rock into the valley!"

he sprang up. she was quicker than he. he saw her headed straight and determined for the edge. he stopped dead.

"nahnya!" he cried hoarsely.

she stopped on the very edge, looking down into the gulf with a kind of wistful desirousness. one would almost have said that she was sorry he had cried out.

"i will swear it!" he cried quickly. he dropped to his knees beside the cross of stones.

she came back from the edge with a sigh. "i will do all that i said," she murmured, as if to herself.

the way down into the shallow valley on the other side was easy. as they proceeded nahnya laid out their plans for the future with a kind of ecstasy in her sad eyes.

"all day i am thinking what we will do. we will gather those like ourselves who are not red and not white, and make a new people of them. first we will go to caribou lake and talk with the people. they have steamboats now on caribou lake and the little river and the big river; the york boats are rotting on the beach and the half-breeds have no work to do. they are poor and sick and full of hate for the white men. i know a fine country where the tamarack river rises in the hills. there are no white men near, and the kakisa indians who hunted there are all dead or gone away with other tribes. it is the best fur country there is left. we will tell the people about this country, and make a village there. there is good hunting for all. the company will make a post there, and you shall be the trader!"