of the wood had vanished; he could not tell
where he was heading, but he must continue moving to keep life in him. He
could no longer reason collectedly. He had not been trained to physical
endurance, and he was getting old; in the grip of the storm he was
helpless. By and by his steps grew feebler and his breath harder to get.
How long he stumbled on he could not remember; but at length he was
sensible of a faint brightness in the snow ahead and he made toward it in
a half-dazed fashion. It seemed to die out, leaving him in a state of dull
despair, but a few moments later something barred his way and stretching
out his mittened hand it fell upon the lapped boarding of a house. There
must be a door, he reasoned, and he groped along the wall until his hand
fell forward into a shallow recess. Then he knocked savagely.

There was no response. The gale shrieked about the building, flinging the
snow against it in clouds, and he realized that any noise he made was not
likely to be heard. He fumbled for a latch, and found a knob which his
numbed fingers failed to turn. Then in a fury he struck the door again,
each blow growing feebler than the last, until the cold overcame him and
he slipped down into the snow. He could not get up; even the desire to do
so grew fainter, and he sank into oblivion.

It did not last, however, and the return to consciousness was agonizing.
A strong light shone about him, though he could see nothing clearly, and
he felt as if a boiling fluid were trying to creep through his
half-frozen limbs; his hands and feet, in particular, tingled beyond
endurance, which, had he known it, was a favorable sign. Then somebody
gave him a hot drink and he heard voices which he vaguely recognized,
though he could not tell to whom they belonged. A little later, he was
lifted up and carried into a different room, where somebody laid him down
and wrapped clothing about him. The tingling pain passed away, he felt
delightfully warm, and that was all that he was conscious of as he sank
into heavy slumber.

It was daylight when he awakened, clear-headed and comfortable, and
recognized the room as the one he had previously occupied in Prescott's
house. It was obvious that he had slept for twelve or fourteen hours; and
seeing his clothes laid out, dry, upon a chair, he got up and dressed.
Then he went down to the living-room, where Prescott rose as he came in.

"You don't look much the worse," the rancher said. "You had a