tly evident that he and his companions could not reach the
inlet while their provisions held out. There was no longer any doubt
that he had involved them in disaster, and the knowledge that he had
done so was very bitter.

He sat still awhile with haggard face and set lips, gazing up the
ravine, for, although he scarcely fancied that either of the others had
expected anything else, he shrank from going back as empty-handed as
when he had left them. The light was getting very dim, but he could
still see the ice fringe upon the pool in front of him, and a mass of
rock that rose black against the creeping dusk not very far away.
Beyond it on the one side there seemed to be a waste of stones amidst
which a few wreaths of snow still gleamed lividly. Then a wall of rock
scarcely distinguishable in the shadow shut in the hollow.

The latter was filled with the hoarse roar of the river and the sharp
crash and crackle of stream-driven ice, but by and bye the worn-out man
started as he caught another faint sound which suggested the clink of a
displaced stone. His hands closed hard upon the rifle, but he sat very
still, listening with strained attention until he heard the sound
again. Then a thrill ran through him, for he was quite certain of its
meaning. A stone had rolled over higher up the gorge, and he rose and
moved forward cautiously, keeping the detached rock between him and the
upper portion of the ravine. Once or twice a stone clattered noisily
beneath his feet, and he stopped for a moment or two, wondering with
tense anxiety whether the sound could be heard at any distance through
the roar of the river. This was a very much grimmer business than
crawling through the long grass for a shot at the prairie antelope,
when in case of success it had scarcely seemed worth while to pack the
tough and stringy venison back to the homestead.

By and bye he heard the clatter of a displaced stone again, and this
time it was so distinct and near that it puzzled him. The wild
creatures of the waste were, he knew, always alert, and their
perception of an approaching danger was wonderful. It seemed strange,
since he had heard it, that the beast he was creeping in upon could
apparently not hear him, but he realised that he must face the hazard
of its doing so, for in another few minutes it would be too dark to
shoot. He had almost reached the rock by this time, and he shifted his
grasp on the rifle, holding it thrust forward i