he was bewildered with pain and the utter
darkness, for in his fall the lantern had rolled with him, then gone
out. The boy struck a match, and with but little difficulty lighted the
lantern. It seemed strange that the gale had ceased so suddenly, until,
in looking about, he saw that he was in a hollow, and the wind was
roaring above his head. He was quite sheltered where he lay, but his
brief gratitude for this gave way to horrified dismay when he discovered
that the light, too, was sheltered--that the ledge of earth and rock
arose between him and the river bank, that he could never reach the
dreaded danger spot with his warning light, and, near to it though he
was, the flame was completely obscured from the sight of anyone crossing
the ice.

For a moment the situation overwhelmed him. He sat and shivered. The
agony of his injured foot was now asserting itself above the first
numbness, and the realization that he was failing to warn the mill
hands, that he was only a Jack o' Lantern after all, seized on his young
heart and brain like a torturing claw. Despair settled down on him,
blacker, more terrible than the coming night. He fancied he could hear
the mill hands crash through the death hole, and he called wildly,
"Help! Oh, somebody help me!" all the time knowing that the shanties
were too far away for anyone there to hear, and that the footpath above
him was too lonely for any chance lumberman to be taking at this hour.
No one ever passed that way but himself, and in the old days Andy and
the grey--oh, he had not thought of the grey--where had the animal gone?
Instantly he whistled, called, whistled again, and over the ledge above
his head looked a long, serious face, with great solemn eyes, and a
soft, warm nose. The very sight gave the boy courage, and at his next
whistle the old horse carefully picked his way down the bank, and
reaching down his long neck, felt Jacky's shoulder with his velvety
muzzle.

"Oh, Grey," cried the boy, "you must help me. You must do something, oh,
something, to help!" Then he made an attempt to stand, to get on the
animal's back, but his poor foot gave out, and he huddled down to the
ground again in pitiful, hopeless pain. The horse's nose touched his
ear, starting him from a fast oncoming stupor. At the same instant the
six o'clock whistle blew at the mill across the frozen river. In a few
moments the men would be coming home, crossing the ice, perhaps to their
death instead of to