"The wind," replied her father, "or else a prowling dog."

When, however, the pounding upon the door began both sprang to their feet, and with fast-beating hearts crossed the room. Then when the door was opened and Keith, weary, ragged and blood-stained, staggered into the building, they stared in amazement. They listened speechlessly to his brief message, gasped forth in quick, short syllables, and before they had recovered from their astonishment he was gone.

Constance was the first to realize the situation. "Quick, father!" she cried, reaching for her cloak and hood. "We must leave the cabin! The flood is coming! Hurry!"

"But I don't think it will reach us, Connie. We are too high up. But what about the miners?"

By this time Constance was out of the house, listening to the dull, ominous roar, sounding down through the darkness. She shivered and drew the cloak more closely around her shoulders. How weird it all seemed! Oh, if the night would only pa.s.s and give the blessed daylight!

"Connie," said her father, who had joined her, "I think we had better cross to the higher ground by the Indian encampment. We must not run any risk, and, besides, we may learn how the miners are faring."

Together they made their way through the night, along the rough trail, and after much stumbling reached the Indian village. Here they paused and listened. No light was to be seen, and no human voice could they hear. The camp was deserted.

"Let us go farther," suggested Mr. Radhurst. "We may find out something lower down."

Through the midst of the lodges they moved for several hundred yards along the high bank of the Kaslo. The waters were now surging tumultuously on their left. They could hear the ice groaning and tearing in its onward sweep, but could see nothing. When the last house had been reached they stood straining their eyes in an effort to pierce the darkness.

"What's that?" cried Constance, grasping her father's arm more firmly.

"I heard nothing but the waters," was the reply.

"But I did, father, and it sounded like a shout far ahead. Oh, let us go on along the bank! I am afraid something terrible has happened!"

They had groped their way but a short distance when a light fell upon their eyes. Small at first, it soon grew larger, and then they knew it was a watch-fire upon the sh.o.r.es. Forms of men were seen flitting here and there, gathering sticks to throw upon the flames, which ere long developed into a magnificent blaze. Guided by this they soon reached the spot, and great was the miners' surprise to behold the gray-haired man and the hooded maiden emerge from the darkness.

"What's wrong?" inquired Mr. Radhurst, looking from one to another.

"Wrong?" replied a husky fellow, who had just deposited an armful of wood, "everything's wrong to-night! Flood and death, that's what's wrong!"

Constance's face paled as she listened to these words.

"Why," she gasped, "didn't all escape?"

"Naw. The best has gone down, the only men of the whole gang."

"Who? Oh, tell me quick!"

"Old Pete an' the parson."

The words smote Constance like a sudden blow. Pale at the first intimation of the disaster, she was like death now. She tried to speak, but could utter not a sound.

"Don't be frightened, Miss," said the man not unkindly, noticing her excitement. "It may not be as bad as we think."

"Oh, tell me!" she gasped, "what has happened?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, Miss, we don't know much ourselves. You see we were at that devilish job when the parson landed upon us with a yell which made our blood run cold. Then there was a scramble for the high bank, and I guess the Injuns are scramblin' yet, for they haven't shown up since. It was Pete who first shouted out for the parson, and when he could not be found I thought the old man would go mad. He made for the river with one bound, and the last we heard of him was his cry, "I'm comin', laddie!" and then the flood was upon them."

"But didn't anyone go to their rescue?" asked Constance excitedly.

"Did the men all stand by and let them drown?"

"Not a bit of it, Miss. Most of the men are down yon searchin' the sh.o.r.e, but it's so dark I'm afraid they can do very little. We've made this fire to guide them back, and if they do find the poor chaps, a little heat won't be amiss, I reckon."

"Oh, what can we do!" and Constance wrung her hands in agony of mind.

"Wait, Connie. We can wait," replied her father.

"Wait! Wait, and----" A thought flashed through her mind. It was like a still, small voice.

"Call upon Me in the day of trouble," it said.

Yes, why had she forgotten? It made her feel that a Presence was very near, and that He who long ago had delivered His people from the waters of Egypt would hear her now.

"Father," she said quietly, "we can wait, and we can do something more, we can pray."

"Yes, Connie, we can do that."

"And will you pray, father?"

"You do it, dear, for you know better what to say."

A slight flush came into her face as she knelt upon the ground before the fire. She knew the men were watching her, but she did not mind, for what were they to the ones now in peril?

"Oh G.o.d," she prayed, "lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee, and by Thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night, for the love of Thine only Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ."

"Amen. Amen. Amen," came from the miners, who with bowed and uncovered heads were standing reverently around her.

That was all she could utter. When she rose from her knees the men were bestirring themselves. Some had gone for more wood, while others were poking the fire. This latter work was unnecessary, but the men had to do something. The pathetic sight of the beautiful woman kneeling on the ground, offering up that fervent prayer, had touched their hearts, and more than one brushed their sleeves across their eyes when safe under the friendly cover of darkness.

The wood-gatherers had been gone but a short time when they came hurrying back much excited.

"They're coming! They're coming!" shouted one, "and I believe they've found them!"

The report was true, for soon a band of men slowly approached, bearing something between them.

Constance stepped quickly forward and scanned the faces of the men, and, oh joy! there before her stood Keith, with water dripping from his clothes, his wet hair streaming over his forehead and his face white and haggard.

He did not look upon the men, nor did he see the eager woman gazing so longingly upon him. He beheld only the prostrate form of Pete Martin lying by the fire. Intense agony was expressed in every line of his face as he stooped down and examined the unconscious man.

"Thank G.o.d! Oh, thank G.o.d!" he murmured, as he found the prospector's pulse still beating. "We must get him somewhere out of this," he continued, turning to the men. "He is alive and we may do something for him yet."

"Bring him to our cabin, Mr. Steadman," said Mr. Radhurst. "We will care for him."

"Thank you," and Keith turned towards the old man. Then his eye rested upon Constance's animated face, standing by her father's side. It was like a ray of sunshine to his clouded heart, a light in the darkness, peace in the midst of storm, and a faint smile crossed his face--the first in many days.

Tender hands bore Old Pete over the trail to the Radhurst cabin and laid him upon the couch within. Outside, the miners stood in little groups waiting, but hardly knowing what they were waiting for.

Homeless, penniless were they, but they never thought of it then.

Their own losses were swallowed up in the excitement of the moment, and the sudden blow which had fallen.

Down below, the river--the river of death--surged and moaned. It had swept away the cabins and had gripped in its icy grasp the body of one wretched man, whose hand no more would be raised to strike at the Standard of the Lord and His co-workers.