ck in the heart of the forests. Away out there,
somewhere lost in the blinding fog of the blizzard, which had only
sprung up within the last hour, a lonely fellow creature was making for
the shelter in which he stood. He was driving headlong towards him. Oh,
yes. He knew that. He had seen the moving outfit far off, several miles
away, over the snowy plains, before the storm had arisen. Now--where was
he? He could not tell. He could not even guess at what might have
happened. Blinded, freezing, weary, how long could the lonely traveller
endure and retain any sense of direction?

To the forest man the position was well-nigh tragic. Had he not
experience of the terror of a northern blizzard? Had he not many a time
had to grope his way along a life-line lest the slightest deviation in
direction should carry him out into the storm to perish of cold, blinded
and lost? Oh, yes. This understanding was the alphabet of his life.

As he stood there watching and wiping the snow from his eyes, he
reminded himself not only of his own experience but of every story of
disaster in a blizzard he had ever listened to. And so he saw no hope
for the poor wretch he had seen struggling to make the shelter.

But he could not bring himself to abandon his post. How could he with a
fellow creature out there in peril? Besides, there was other reason,
although it needed none. He had urgent news for this man, news which
must be imparted without delay, news which his employers must hear at
the earliest possible moment.

His trouble grew as he waited. He searched his mind for anything
calculated to aid the doomed traveller. He could find nothing. He
thought to call out, to burst his lungs in a series of shouts on the
chance of being heard in the chaos of the storm. But he realised the
uselessness of it all, and abandoned the impulse. No puny human voice
could hope to make impression on the din of the elemental battle being
fought out on the plain. No. His only service must be to stand there
beating life into his numbing hands, ready to act on the instant should
opportunity serve.

He was eaten up by anxiety, and so took no cognisance of time. He had
forgotten the passing of daylight. Therefore sudden realisation flung
him into headlong panic. The forest about him was growing dark. The snow
fog outside had changed to a deeper hue. Night was coming on. The man in
the storm was beyond all aid, human or otherwise.

The impulse of the moment was irre