p. But,
strange to say, the dog would not enter. With a sharp bark he trotted a
short distance down the path, looking back at his master.

"No, no, Pal, I don't want to take a walk to-day. Come in and get warm,
you rascal, and give an account of yourself," the Hermit called, still
holding the door open though the air was chilling.

The dog wagged his tail, but made no move toward the house. Instead, he
whined, trotted a few steps farther and looked eagerly back into his
master's face. It was clear to the Hermit that Pal wished him to follow,
but for a moment he hesitated, contrasting the warmth within the cabin
with the bitter cold and loneliness of the forest. Then he looked again
at the dog, who had not taken his pleading eyes from his master's face.

"All right, Pal, just come in until I bundle up. This cold would freeze
a man in no time if he were not well protected."

The Hermit turned back into the cabin and the dog, apparently
understanding, no longer hung back. His adored master had not failed
him. A few minutes later both issued from the house with the dog in the
lead, soon disappearing from sight in the shadows of the forest.

In the morning of that same day Dave Lansing, a young hunter and
trapper, had left his rude cabin some miles to the north of the Hermit's
clearing to visit his trap line. Ill luck seemed to be with him. In the
first place he had been delayed long after his accustomed time for
starting. Then, one after another, he had found his traps rifled, until
he had turned away from the last one angry and disgusted. Still a
perverse fate seemed to be following him. Several miles from his cabin,
he stumbled upon something buried in the snow; there was a sharp click,
and with a sudden grunt of pain he sank to the ground, his axe flying
from his hand and skimming for some distance over the smooth snow crust.

Dave sat up, dazed. The pain which he suffered, however, soon cleared
his brain and he found that he was caught in the steel jaws of a trap.
The trap was not of his own setting, but this made him no less a
captive. He tried to press open the jaws but they held stubbornly. Then
he remembered his axe. Crawling as far as the trap would permit, he
stretched himself at full length upon the snow and reached desperately.
The instrument which would have been his salvation was six inches out of
reach. Moreover, the strain upon his foot was so unbearable that he was
obliged to draw back in order to ease