Edwin wonders how the women are doing. He wonders if they’re frightened as well as cold. He thinks about Dan’s wife, Emma. No one would say she was pretty, but she has an expressive, compelling face. She commands the stage—Edwin can see this without understanding how she does it. He thinks about this a lot. He makes himself think about it now. He trips over an exposed branch. Maybe Dan has lost the road. Maybe they won’t be found until the snow melts in the spring. His scarf is wet and icy from his own breath and sometimes freezes to his cheek. He can’t be sure he still has toes.

The horses exhale loudly, unhappily. When they started, Old Spudge tried to urge them onwards with songs—“Old Dan Tucker,” “The Pope He Leads a Happy Life,” and “Whar Did You Cum From?” Now, except for their footsteps, the troupe is silent. No birds call. No water runs. Edwin tries to conjure the heat of Panama, how hard it was to breathe that thick cloying air. He tries to remember it so vividly he feels it, but he’s not that kind of actor.

They trudge forward. On the way in, they’d passed an abandoned miner’s cabin and Dan had hoped to reach it before nightfall. But they’ve been walking now for some time in the moonlight, and they don’t know if it’s still ahead or if they missed it. On a downward slope, they come instead on a different cabin, a ruin really, only a corner still standing. But there’s a bit of roof overhead and under the collapse of the walls, some wood dry enough to burn. They make a fire and gather around it, drinking boiled snow for supper. Edwin hangs his scarf near the flames and the ice in it steams away.

The fire suffers from the limitations of fires—one’s back can be warm or one’s front, but not both. With the help of blankets, Edwin thaws and as he does so, his body begins to shake. He shivers more uncontrollably now that he’s warmer than he did while walking. His teeth rattle and he’s never quite warm enough to sleep.

In the morning, they begin again. They’ve been walking now, on and off, for twenty-eight hours.

Then, a miracle. They come down from the mountains. The snow thins on the ground and the sun shines. They’re all able to ride the rest of the way. Edwin’s a good, bold rider and the minute he swings into the saddle, the whole affair becomes a grand adventure, something to write home about.