t of laughter broke through
the twanging of the strings, and Nasmyth closed one hand hard as he
strode on faster into the darkness. There was as much of the animal in
him as there is in most of us, and he longed for the cheerful light
and the warmth of the stove, while one learns the value of human
companionship when the Frost King lays his grip on that lonely land.
He was once more homeless--an outcast--and it was almost a relief to
him when at length the twanging of the fiddle was lost in the silence
of the pines.

The trees rose about him, towering high into the soft darkness in
serried ranks, and the snow gleamed a cold blue-grey under them. Not a
twig stirred; the tall spires were black, and motionless, and solemn,
and he felt that their stateliness emphasized his own feebleness and
inconsequence. In the meanwhile, though the snow was loose and
frost-dried, it was not much above his ankles, and the trail was
comparatively good. It seemed to him advisable to push on as fast as
possible, for he had only four days' provisions, and he was not sure
of his strength. There was no doubt as to what the result would be if
it failed him in the wilderness that lay between him and the
settlement.

CHAPTER II

THE TRAIL

A half-moon rose above the black tops of the pines, and a faint light,
which the snow flung back, filtered down between the motionless
branches upon the narrow trail that wound sinuously in and out among
fallen trunks and thickets draped with withered fern, for the Siwash
Indians passed that way when the salmon came up the rivers, and the
path an Indian makes is never straight. Over and over again, an Indian
will go around an obstacle through which the Bush-rancher would hew a
passage. This is essentially characteristic of both, for the primitive
peoples patiently fit their lives to their environment, while the
white man grapples with unfavourable conditions, and resolutely
endeavours to alter them.

Until daylight Nasmyth made a tolerable pace. He had been troubled
with a curious lassitude and an unpleasant dizziness, but walking is
considerably easier than rolling ponderous logs, and he knew that it
was advisable for him to push on as fast as possible. At length, the
dawn broke high up in a dingy grey sky, and he stopped to build a
fire. It did not take long to boil a can of strong green tea, and to
prepare a piece of doughy bread, with a little salt pork, for his
breakfast. Then he wrapped one