There was a pain in her chest.

A thousand needles seemed pricking her face, and suddenly she remembered the thermometer.

She exposed it for a time on the top of the tent.

When she looked at it a few minutes later it was thirty degrees below zero.
Forty miles! And her father had told her that she could make it--and could not lose herself! But she did not know that even her father would have been afraid to face the north that day, with the temperature at thirty below, and a moaning wind bringing the first warning of a blizzard.
The timber was far behind her now.

Ahead there was nothing but the pitiless barren, and the timber beyond that was hidden by the gray gloom of the day.