fened, and there was a horrible ache in every
limb, while he groaned as the cold struck through him. Twice he
essayed to raise himself and fell back again, but at last by an effort
crawled towards a tree and leaned his back against it while he
stretched out one numbed and useless limb into the silver light. The
long boots were curiously smeared, the overalls above them stiffened
and crusted, while following the movement he made there was a swift
spreading of the stain.

Alton shivered and set his lips as he groped for his handkerchief, then
groaning the while dragged at it until it was knotted above his knee.
After that he laid his finger on the overalls and saw that the stain
spread past it more slowly. Then he felt for the matches in one
pocket, and finding them, turned over cautiously and dragged himself
towards a fallen fir. He knew where to find the resin, and tore at the
smaller branches fiercely, flung them together, and striking a match,
watched the flame that spread from splinter to splinter and crawled
amidst the twigs. At last it sprang aloft in a great crackling blaze,
and Alton swayed unevenly and fell over on his side again. After that
he remembered nothing until he saw that the sun was in the sky, and
dragged himself to the thicket for an armful of frosted fern. When he
had piled it on the fire a gauzy blue column that rose straight between
the firs replaced the flame, and the man who watched it vacantly for a
while dragged himself back groaning for another armful of the fern.

He afterwards fancied that he spent most of the day crawling between
the fire and the thicket, but was never very sure of anything he did
just then. Nor did he feel hungry, though now and then he clawed up
and sucked a handful of snow, but he remembered that he was lying in
the smoke when the bush grew dimmer and the red blaze more brilliant as
darkness crept down. Presently he fancied that something broke through
the monotone of the river, and after listening to it vacantly groped
for the rifle. He clutched it, and raising himself a trifle with
difficulty, blinked at the darkness that hemmed in the fire until
footsteps came out of it. They were not furtive, but apparently those
of somebody coming straight towards the light in haste. Alton smiled
curiously, and wriggled until he was out of the strongest light, and
found support for the barrel of the rifle. Then a cry came out of the
shadows, "Is it you, Harry?"

Alt