nd his steps were straight and firm. The
size of the deer did not decrease for him. It loomed immense and
powerful through the driving snow, and, as it led steadily on, never
looking back now, he followed with equal steadiness.

The stag turned once, going sharply to the right, and, in a few more
minutes, the ground grew quite rough. Then he saw through the veil of
the snow high hills rising on either side, but the stag led into a deep
and narrow valley between them. As they advanced, it narrowed yet
further, and the trees and bushes on the crests above them were so dense
that the snow was not deep there, and the bitter wind was cut off
entirely. Either hope and confidence or some measure of returning warmth
drove the chill from Henry's bones, as he forgot the wet and cold and
pressed forward eagerly when the stag increased his pace.

Henry's mental state became one of exaltation. He did not know to what
he was going, but he knew that life lay at the end of the stag's trail,
and he was willing to follow as long as need be. Nor did he ever know
how long he followed, but he did notice that the cleft was growing
deeper and narrower. After an unknown time he emerged into a tiny valley
that was more like a well, it was set so deep in the hills and its
slopes were so steep, the cliffs in truth overhanging on two sides.

He uttered a cry of joy. This was to be his refuge, and here he would be
saved. Stretches of ground under the hanging cliffs were bare of snow,
and heaped high with dead leaves. Dead wood lay all about. The bitter
wind, with its alternate shriek and whistle, swept overhead, but it did
not touch the floor of the well. The air was still and it did not bite.

The stag turned and looked back for the second and last time, and
Henry, either in reality or in an illusion so deep that it was as vivid
as reality, saw an expression of kinship in the great luminous eyes.
Once more, for him at least, the old golden age when men and animals
were friends had come back to endure an hour or two. Then, lifting its
head very high and seeming taller and more majestic than ever, it passed
out of the valley at a narrow opening on the other side.

Henry, shaking himself violently to bring back his wandering faculties,
concentrated them upon his present needs, which were still urgent.
Crouching in the best shelter that the hanging cliff furnished, he
rapidly whittled shavings from the dead wood, until he had formed a heap
close t