s feet. But he clung against the slope of
the hill, sometimes gripping hard with his hands. So he worked his way
to the right, the sound of the singing coming more and more frequently
and louder and louder. When he was almost upon the source of the music
it ceased abruptly.

He waited a moment, but no sound came. He struggled forward a few more
yards and pitched down exhausted, panting. Still he heard the singing
no longer. With a falling heart he rose and resigned himself to wander
on his original course with the wind, but as he started he placed his
hand once more against the cross, and it was then that he saw her.

For he had simply gone past her, and the yelling of the storm had cut
off the sound of her voice. Now he saw her lying, a spot of bright
color on the snow. He read the story at a glance. As she passed this
steep-sided hill the loosely piled snow had slid down and carried with
it the dead trunk of a fallen tree.

Pierre came from behind and stood over her unnoticed. He saw that the
oncoming tree, by a strange chance, had knocked down the girl and
pinned her legs to the ground. His strength and the strength of a
dozen men would not be sufficient to release her. This he saw at the
first glance, and saw the bright gold of her hair against the snow.
Then he dropped on his knees beside her.

CHAPTER VIII

BELIEF

The girl tossed up her arms in a silent ecstasy, and Pierre caught the
small cold hands and saw that she was only a child of twelve or
fourteen, lovely as only a child can be, and still more beautiful with
the wild storm sweeping over her and the waste of snow around them.

He crouched lower still, and when he did so the strength of the wind
against his face decreased wonderfully, for the sharp angle of the
hill's declivity protected them. Seeing him kneel there, helpless with
wonder, she cried out with a little wail: "Help me--the tree--help me!"
And, bursting into a passion of sobbing, she tugged her hands from his
and covered her face.

Pierre placed his shoulder under the trunk and lifted till the muscles
of his back snapped and cracked. He could not budge the weight; he
could not even send a tremor through the mass of wood; He dropped back
beside her with a groan. He felt her eyes upon him; she had ceased her
sobs, and looked steadily, gravely, into his face.

It would have been easy for him to meet that look on the morning of
this day, but after that night's work in