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voice　of　the　wind；　so　huge　and　hollowly　sincere；　made　their　laughter　seem　tinny

and　forced。

They　had　seen　caribou　tracks　in　the　snow　and　once　the　caribou　themselves；　a

group　of　five　standing　motionlessly　below　the　security　fence。　They　had　all　taken

turns　with　Jacks　Zeiss…Ikon　binoculars　to　see　them　better；　and　looking　at　them

had　given　Wendy　a　weird；　unreal　feeling：　they　were　standing　leg…deep　in　the　snow

that　covered　the　highway；　and　it　came　to　her　that　between　now　and　the　spring

thaw；　the　road　belonged　more　to　the　caribou　than　it　did　to　them。　Now　the　things

that　men　had　made　up　here　were　neutralized。　The　caribou　understood　that；　she

believed。　She　had　put　the　binoculars　down　and　had　said　something　about　starting

lunch　and　in　the　kitchen　she　had　cried　a　little；　trying　to　rid　herself　of　the

awful　pent…up　feeling　that　sometimes　fell　on　her　like　a　large；　pressing　hand

over　her　heart。　She　thought　of　the　caribou。　She　thought　of　the　wasps　Jack　had

put　out　on　the　service　entrance　platform；　under　the　Pyrex　bowl；　to　freeze。

There　were　plenty　of　snowshoes　hung　from　nails　in　the　equipment　shed；　and　Jack

found　a　pair　to　fit　each　of　them；　although　Dannys　pair　was　quite　a　bit

outsized。　Jack　did　well　with　them。　Although　he　had　not　snowshoed　since　his

boyhood　in　Berlin；　New　Hampshire；　he　retaught　himself　quickly。　Wendy　didnt　care

much　for　it　—　even　fifteen　minutes　of　tramping　around　on　the　outsized　laced

paddles　made　her　legs　and　ankles　ache　outrageously　　but　Danny　was　intrigued　and

working　hard　to　pick　up　the　knack。　He　still　fell　often；　but　Jack　was　pleased

with　his　progress。　He　said　that　by　February　Danny　would　be　skipping　circles

around　both　of　them。

*　*　*

This　day　was　overcast；　and　by　noon　the　sky　had　already　begun　to　spit　snow。　The

radio　was　promising　another　eight　to　twelve　inches　and　chanting　hosannas　to

Precipitation；　that　great　god　of　Colorado　skiers。　Wendy；　sitting　in　the　bedroom

and　knitting　a　scarf；　thought　to　herself　that　she　knew　exactly　what　the　skiers

could　do　with　all　that　snow。　She　knew　exactly　where　they　could　put　it。

Jack　was　in　the　cellar。　He　had　gone　down　to　check　the　furnace　and　boiler　—　such

checks　had　bee　a　ritual　with　him　since　the　snow　had　closed　them　in　—　and　after

satisfying　himself　that　everything　was　going　well　he　had　wandered　through　the

arch；　screwed　the　lightbulb　on；　and　had　seated　himself　in　an　old　and　cobwebby

camp　chair　he　had　found。　He　was　leafing　through　the　old　records　and　papers；

constantly　wiping　his　mouth　with　his　handkerchief　as　he　did　so。　Confinement　had

leached　his　skin　of　its　autumn　tan；　and　as　he　sat　hunched　over　the　yellowed；

crackling　sheets；　his　reddish…blond　hair　tumbling　untidily　over　his　forehead；　he

looked　slightly　lunatic。　He　had　found　some　odd　things　tucked　in　among　the

invoices；　bills　of　lading；　receipts。　Disquieting　things。　A　bloody　strip　of

sheeting。　A　dismembered　teddy　bear　that　seemed　to　have　been　slashed　to　pieces。　A

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