and
nerves centering in his one desperate resolve.

Then the dawn came peeping over the big spruces, and found him still
at his grim gambols. He set forth once more down the road, slipping
and stumbling, his body doubled forward. A few miles and a few hours
more--it was the most he could hope for.

All at once his dull ears heard the zin-n-ng of a rifle-bullet close to
his head; and almost immediately, as he ducked and rolled upon his back,
the sinister shriek of another ball made it plain that he was the game
aimed at. Two smart cracks at some distance indicated the location of
the marksman.

Animal instinct is alike in brute and man. Parker leaped at the sound
of the first bullet, fell, and rolled behind a snow-covered boulder.
Had Ward or his minion tracked him? Were they now carrying out their
desperate plan? The double report was proof that the man or men were
determined on slaughter.

After a long time he dared to peer cautiously. At some distance down the
tote-road an old man was crouching beside a moose sled. On the sled
was the carcass of a deer. Parker realized that this old man must be a
poacher.

An assassin sent after a man would not be wasting his ammunition on deer
in close time.

The old man remained motionless, with the stolidity of the veteran
hunter waiting to make sure. Torpor rapidly seized on Parker's mind.
He shouted as best he could, but his voice was hoarse from hours of
shouting into the vastness of the deserted woods. His faculties were
growing befogged. He dared not exert himself enough to keep awake, for
his rock was but a narrow bulwark. It seemed to be a choice of deaths,
only.

At last he desperately leaped up and danced behind his protecting
boulder, uttering such cries as he could. But he saw the old man
throw his rifle up and take aim. Down he dropped, and the bullet sang
overhead.

He realized then that his garb made him resemble some strange beast--a
bear, perhaps--and he gritted his teeth as he pondered that this might
be part of Gideon Ward's vindictive scheme. If he attempted to show
himself long enough to convince the old man that he was human he would
only be inviting the bullet.

Until his blurring senses left him he occasionally shouted or thrust up
his head; but the old still-hunter was relentless, and evidently had not
the clear vision of a youth. He was always ready with a shot.

At last, with tears freezing on his cheeks, Parker gave himself up to
the fatuo