gs were exhausted, and could not return. But the bold
Esquimau was in the prime of life, and animated by the fire of vigorous
youth. The storm was beginning to mutter in the distance. What then?--
Had he not faced the blasts of the frozen regions many a time before?--
Without saying a word, he threw a junk of seal-flesh into his wallet,
and, striding back upon his track at the mountain's base, he disappeared
in the driving snow.

Before reaching the fort, however, the full fury of the storm had burst
upon him. It cast him headlong into the snow; but he rose and staggered
on. Again it burst forth, and again he fell before it like a stately
pine. Rising to his knees, Maximus draw the hood of his hairy garment
close round his head and face, and tried to peer through the driving
snow; but he could not see until a slight lull came; then he observed a
hummock of ice at a short distance, and, rising, made towards it. The
lulls were short-lived, however. The storm threw him down again;
instantly he was drifted over with snow; another blast came, lifted the
drift into the air, and left the Esquimau exposed to all its fury. But
Maximus was not conquered. He rose again, panting, it is true, but
sturdy as ever, and ready to take advantage of the next lull. It came
soon; and he saw a rock, or, it might be, the base of a cliff close at
hand. With a quick run he reached it; and, going down on his knees,
began with his gloved hands to scrape a hollow in the snow. Having made
a hole big enough to contain his body, he lay down in it, and, pulling
the superincumbent snow down upon him, was almost buried in the ruin.
Scarcely had he drawn the hood of his coat well over his face, when
another burst of the storm dashed a column of curling drift upon the
rock, and the place where he lay was covered up; not a wrinkle in the
drift remained to mark the spot where he was buried!

All that night the storm roared among mountains with bitter fury; but
next day the wind was subdued, and the sun shone brightly on the grey
rocks and on the white wreaths of snow. It shone in all the lustre of
an unclouded winter sky. Not only did the sun smile upon the scene, but
two mock suns or parhelia, almost as bright as himself, shone on either
side of him. Yet no ray of light illuminated the dwellings of the
fur-traders. All was darkness there, until Stanley rose from his couch
and lighted a candle, for the purpose of examining his watch.

"Hal