had only
been waiting for this chance to torture him. He had to spring high to
enter the little hole at all; there was no way to dodge the flames
outside. But he might knock the logs apart and put the fire out.

There was only a distance of two paces between him and the door, but he
seemed to have difficulty in making these. He reeled against the wall.
But when he tried to thrust his arms through to reach the burning logs,
the cruel tongues stabbed at his hands.

But in spite of the pain, he reached again. The skin blistered on his
hands, and for a long, horrible instant he groped impotently. The flame
was raging by now, two or three pitch-laden spruce chunks blazing
fiercely at once, and it seemed wholly likely that the cabin itself
would catch fire. But he couldn't reach the logs.

He remembered his gloves then and fumbled for them in his pocket. The
smoke could only be endured a few seconds more. He caught hold the edge
of the opening and tried to spring up. But the flames beat into his
face and drove him down again.

For a moment he stood reeling, trying to think, trying to remember some
resource, some avenue of escape. There was no furniture to stand on.
If he could cover his face he might be able to leap part way through the
opening and knock the burning logs apart. He tried to open his smarting
eyes, but the lids were wracked with pain and would not at once respond.
He made it at last, but the dense smoke was impervious to his vision.
The firelight gave it a ghastly pallor.

His ax! With his ax he could chop the door away. His hand fumbled at
his belt. But he remembered now; he lad left his ax outside the cabin,
its blade thrust into the spruce log that had supplied his fuel.

Suddenly he saw himself face to face with seemingly certain death. It
was curious that he did not feel more fear, greater revulsion. It was
almost as if it didn't matter. While the steady sinking of the burning
logs lessened, in some degree, the danger of the cabin igniting--a few
inches of snow against the door remaining unmelted--the smoke clouds
were swiftly and surely strangling him. Already his consciousness was
departing. He leaped for the opening again and fell sprawling on the
dirt floor. He started to spring up----

But he suddenly grew inert, breathing deeply. There was still air close
to the ground. Strange he hadn't thought of it before,--just to lie
still, face close to the dirt. It pained him to