ld not be so. There was a slope
coated with two feet of snow, and swinging far back on the heels of
his snowshoes, he shot downward like one taking a tremendous slide on
a toboggan. Faster and faster he went, but deeper and deeper he dug his
shoes into the snow, until he lay back almost flat against its surface.
This checked his speed somewhat, but it was still very great, and,
preserving his self-control perfectly, he prayed aloud to kindly
Providence to save him from some great boulder or abrupt drop.

The snow from his runners flew in a continuous shower behind him as he
descended. Yet he drew himself compactly together, and held his rifle
parallel with his body. Once or twice, as he went over a little ridge,
he shot clear of the snow, but he held his body rigid, and the snow
beyond saved him from a severe bruise. Then his speed was increased
again, and all the time the white surface of the lake below, seen dimly
through the night and his flight, seemed miles away.

He might never reach that surface alive, but of one thing lie was sure.
None of the Iroquois or Tories had dared to follow. Braxton Wyatt could
have no triumph over him. He was alone in his great flight. Once a
projection caused him to turn a little to one side. He was in momentary
danger of turning entirely, and then of rolling head over heels like
a huge snowball, but with a mighty effort he righted himself, and
continued the descent on the runners, with the heels plowing into the
ice and the snow.

Now that white expanse which had seemed so far away came miles nearer.
Presently he would be there. The impossible had become possible, the
unattainable was about to be attained. He gave another mighty dig with
his shoes, the last reach of the slope passed behind him, and he shot
out on the frozen surface of the lake, bruised and breathless, but
without a single broken bone.

The lake was covered with ice a foot thick, and over this lay frozen
snow, which stopped Henry forty or fifty yards from the cliff. There he
lost his balance at last, and fell on his side, where he lay for a few
moments, weak, panting, but triumphant.

When he stood upright again he felt his body, but he had suffered
nothing save some bruises, that would heal in their own good time. His
deerskin clothing was much torn, particularly on the back, where he had
leaned upon the ice and snow, but the folded blanket had saved him to a
considerable extent. One of his shoes was pulled loose