hat whipped his face, and discovered
a tote-road that had been long abandoned, for the bushes grew in it and
the crust was unmarked.

He pondered a while. Then he shut his eyes, whirled until he dropped,
scrambled up, and started away in the direction in which chance had
faced him. He smiled as he thought upon this childish resource, but in
that bewildering region he had at least been enabled to make up his mind
quickly by the device.

The rosy light of the dawn touched him as he plodded along. His advance
was slow, for the sleeves of the fur coat impeded free use of his legs.
The day was clear and cold, with a stinging wind that tossed the roaring
branches of the spruce-trees. The crust held firm. Parker's constrained
arms were aching and his hands were numb. He jerked and twisted at the
thongs until his wrists were raw, but the knots were too strong for him.

He had passed so many crossings and fork-ings of the bush-grown road
that he gave up trying to keep the ramifications in mind for his use
should he find it necessary to turn back. He now went on doggedly,
choosing this way or that, as it chanced, hoping to hear a ringing ax or
a hunter's gun or a teamster's shout somewhere in those solitudes.

In the late afternoon the road led him to an ice-sheathed stream. Here
the way divided.

He took the road that led down-stream. It undoubtedly ended at a lake,
thought he. Log-landings are on lakes. There would be men to release
him from the torture of aching muscles and gnawing stomach. Parker would
have welcomed the sight of Colonel Gideon Ward himself when that second
night came through the trees.

It was beyond human endurance to walk farther, but Parker realized that
if he lay down in that state of cold, weariness and hunger he would
never rise again. He marshaled in his mind all the people, all the
interests he had to live for; the parents who depended on him, a certain
young girl who was waiting so anxiously for his return, his prospects in
life. He did this methodically, as if he were piling fagots for a fire
at which to warm himself. Then he mentally kindled the heap with the
blaze of a mighty determination to live, and standing under a great
spruce, he began to stamp about it and count aloud. Half a dozen times
during that long night he staggered and fell, as if an invisible hand
had struck him down. But the next moment, with a cry of "I'll stay
awake!" he was up again and at his self-set task, mind, muscles