es
so, a man soon tires. Thorpe resented the inequalities, the stones, the
roots, the patches of soft ground which lay in his way. He felt dully
that they were not fair. He could negotiate the distance; but anything
else was a gratuitous insult.

Then suddenly he gained his second wind. He felt better and stronger and
moved freer. For second wind is only to a very small degree a question
of the breathing power. It is rather the response of the vital forces to
a will that refuses to heed their first grumbling protests. Like dogs by
the fire they do their utmost to convince their master that the limit of
freshness is reached; but at last, under the whip, spring to their work.

At midnight Injin Charley called a halt. He spread his blanket; leaned
on one elbow long enough to eat strip of dried meat, and fell asleep.
Thorpe imitated his example. Three hours later the Indian roused his
companion, and the two set out again.

Thorpe had walked a leisurely ten days through the woods far to the
north. In that journey he had encountered many difficulties. Sometimes
he had been tangled for hours at a time in a dense and almost
impenetrable thicket. Again he had spent a half day in crossing a
treacherous swamp. Or there had interposed in his trail abattises of
down timber a quarter of a mile wide over which it had been necessary to
pick a precarious way eight or ten feet from the ground.

This journey was in comparison easy. Most of the time the travellers
walked along high beech ridges or through the hardwood forests.
Occasionally they were forced to pass into the lowlands, but always
little saving spits of highland reaching out towards each other abridged
the necessary wallowing. Twice they swam rivers.

At first Thorpe thought this was because the country was more open; but
as he gave better attention to their route, he learned to ascribe it
entirely to the skill of his companion. The Indian seemed by a species
of instinct to select the most practicable routes. He seemed to know how
the land ought to lie, so that he was never deceived by appearances
into entering a cul de sac. His beech ridges always led to other beech
ridges; his hardwood never petered out into the terrible black swamps.
Sometimes Thorpe became sensible that they had commenced a long detour;
but it was never an abrupt detour, unforeseen and blind.

From three o'clock until eight they walked continually without a pause,
without an instant's breathing spell