d soon freeze, but not before it had
left a scent that any wolf which might happen to be near could follow.

He left the woods with a steady stride, refraining from attempting a
faster pace than he could keep up, but when he had gone a mile he felt
distressed. His load, which included the rifle, was heavy, and he had
been exerting himself since early morning. The wind was in his face,
lashing it until the cold became intolerable; the dry snow was loose,
and had drifted over his outward trail. Still, he was thankful that no
more had fallen, and he thought that he knew the quarter he must make
for. Now that he was in the open, he could see some distance, for the
snow threw up a dim light. It stretched away before him, a sweep of
glimmering gray, and the squeaking crunch it made beneath his shoes
emphasized the overwhelming silence.

Skirting a bluff he did not remember, he stopped in alarm, until a
taller clump of trees which he thought he knew caught his searching
eyes. If he were right, he must incline farther to the east to strike
the shortest line to camp; and he set off, breathing heavily and
longing to fling away his load. Cold flakes stung his face, and a
creeping haze obscured his view in the direction where he expected to
find the next woods. He was within a hundred yards of the nearest
trees when he saw them, and as he left the woods it was snowing hard.
His heart sank as he launched out into the open, for he had now no
guide, and having neither ax nor blanket he could not make a fire and
camp in a bluff, even if he could find one. It looked as if he must
perish should he fail to reach the camp.

He had only a hazy recollection of floundering on, passing a bluff he
could not locate, and here and there a white rock, while the snow fell
thicker and its surface got worse. Then, when he felt he could go no
farther, he heard a howl behind him, and then another.

With the wolves on his trail, Blake quickened his speed to his utmost
limit. As a last resort he could throw away the meat, and they would
stop for that; but they were still some distance back of him and he
held on grimly to his precious load. It meant life to him and to his
starving companions. His feet sank into the soft snow; the wind blew
him back cruelly; a cloud had come over the moon, obscuring what little
light he had; but, worst of all, one of his snowshoes was loose. With
the cry of the wolves behind him, he did not dare stop to tig