wards, screaming defiance as its outstretched pinions
brush the sleek coat of the mountain lion, it passes on over the
creaking tree-tops to learn the real cause of the hubbub.

Down the valley, away to the east, the timid deer gather, snuffing at
the breeze, fearful, protesting, yet fascinated. The caribou pauses in
his headlong race to listen; only, a moment later, to speed on the
faster.

"Aim-sa! Aim-sa! Wait, I come!"

The cry is more muffled. The dark canopy of forest deadens it, till the
sound is like a voice crying out from the depths of the earth. For the
man is travelling with the fierce directness of one who is lured on by
the haunting vision of that which is his whole desire. The riven
mountains have no meaning for him. He looks straight out, nor
tree-trunk, nor bush, nor jutting rock bars his vision; there beyond,
ever beyond, is that which alone he seeks. It moves as he moves;
beckoning, calling, smiling. But always, like a will-o'-the-wisp, it
eludes him, and draws forth the cry from his throat. The sweet, mocking
face; the profound blue eyes, sparkling with laughter or brooding in
perfect seriousness; the parted lips about the glistening teeth so
luscious in their suggestion; the dark flowing hair, like a soft curtain
of wondrous texture falling in delicate folds upon rounded
shoulders--these things he sees. Always ahead the vision speeds, always
beyond. The man's efforts avail nothing.

The wolves upon his trail lope slowly over the forest bed of oozing
vegetation; with careless stride, but with relentless intent, the
creatures openly seek their prey. For blood is upon the air, and they
come with the patter of thousands of feet, singing their dolorous chorus
with all the deep meaning of the savage primordial beast. But the man
heeds them not. He is deaf to their raucous song as he is blind to the
mighty encompassing hills. What cares he if the earth links up with the
blue heavens above him? What cares he for the everlasting silence of
those heights, or the mute Spirits which repose upon the icy beds of the
all-time glaciers? He is beyond the knowledge of Storm or Calm. He knows
nought of the meaning of the awesome voice of Nature. The vision is all
to him, and he gazes upon it with hungry, dreadful eyes. His heart is
starving; his mind is empty of all but the pangs of his all-mastering
desire. If need be he will pursue to the ends of the earth. He has been
to the depths of hell for her; he has felt