og to
rest, and as the warmth of exercise died out, the cold nipped him to
the bone through the "four-point" blanket coat. He got up and moved
on, intending to return in a long curve toward the cabin. He did not
much care, after all, whether he started any wolves. It was too cold
for hunting that night.

The dry snow swished round his ankles at the fall of the long racquets.
He still dragged the dead hares, which were now frozen almost as hard
as wood, but not too hard to leave a scent.

He had reached the other side of the swamp when his ears caught
suddenly a high-pitched, mournful howl, ending in a sort of yelp,
sounding indefinitely far away, yet clearly heard through the tense
air. He knew well what it was. The pack had struck a trail--possibly
his own, possibly that of a deer. He would very soon learn which.

Thrilling with excitement, he walked on slowly, turning his head to
listen. Again and again he caught the hunting chorus of the wolf pack,
far away, but still perceptibly nearer. He was just then in the midst
of a tangled stretch of second-growth timber, and he hurried on to
reach more open ground. As soon as he felt convinced that the pack was
following him he intended to turn back toward the river.

He kept moving on, however, and at last came to the river before he
expected it. He was still more than a mile above the point where the
ambush was to be set, and he paused on the shore and hearkened. Far
away through the moonlit woods he heard the savage, triumphant yell,
much nearer now--so much so that he felt that he might as well make for
the ambush at once. He felt suddenly alone and in peril; he longed
earnestly to see his companions.

He started down the river at a swinging trot, still listening over his
shoulder, when the ice suddenly gave way under his feet, and he went
down with so swift a plunge that he had time for only a shuddering gasp.

He had stepped on an airhole lightly crusted over with snow. He went
down to his neck without touching bottom, and the black water surged up
to his face. It was the gun that saved him; it caught across the hole,
and he clung to it fiercely. As the current fortunately was not rapid,
he was able to draw himself up and out upon the ice.

But he found himself unable to extricate his feet. The long-tailed
snowshoes had gone down point foremost, and now were crossed under the
ice, and refused to come up. He dared not cut them loose, for in the
d