Chapter 16
THE ANTIDOTEThree days it stormed with never a break, stormed so that the
men dreaded the carrying of water from the spring that became
ice-rimmed but never froze over; that clogged with sodden masses of
snow half melted and sent faint wisps of steam up into the chill
air. Cutting wood was an ordeal, every armload an achievement. Cash
did not even attempt to visit his trap line, but sat before the
fire smoking or staring into the flames, or pottered about the
little domestic duties that could not half fill the days.
With melted snow water, a bar of yellow soap, and one leg of an
old pair of drawers, he scrubbed on his knees the floor on his side
of the dead line, and tried not to notice Lovin Child. He failed
only because Lovin Child refused to be ignored, but insist
