action
for the prowling, unseen creatures haunting the wild. The snow outside
was falling silently, heavily, for it was late in the year, and October
was near its close! Here there was shelter under the wide canopy which
the centuries had grown.

As yet the falling temperature was still above zero. Later it would be
different. The cap on the man's head was pressed low over his ears, and
his summer buckskin shirt had been replaced by the furs which would
stand between him and the fierce breath of winter during the long months
to come. His eyes were wide. Every sense was alert. For all he was
gazing into the fire, he was listening, always listening to those sounds
which he dared not ignore for one single moment.

The sounds were many. And each had a meaning which he read with a
sureness that was almost instinctive. The deep unease of the myriads of
bare tree-trunks about him, supporting their snow-laden canopy, told
him of the burden which the pitiless northern heavens were thrusting
upon them. It also told him of the strength of the breeze which was
driving the banking snow outside. The not infrequent booming crash of a
falling tree spoke of a burden already too great to bear. So with the
splitting of an age-rotted limb torn from the parent trunk.

Of deeper significance, and more deadly, is the sound which never dies
out completely. It is a sound as of falling leaves, pattering softly
upon the underlay of rotting cones and dead pine needles. Its insistence
is peculiar. There are moments when it is distant. And moments, again,
when it is near, desperately near.

It is at times such as the latter that the man at the fire unlocks his
hands. With a swift movement, he reaches down to the fire and seizes a
blazing brand. For a moment a trail of fire arcs against the black
depths of the forest and falls to the ground. Then, with a hasty
scuttling, the sounds die away in the distance, and a fierce snarling
challenge is flung from the safer depths.

The challenge is without effect. The man rises swiftly to his feet, and,
a moment later, the smouldering firebrand is gathered up, and all signs
of fire where it has fallen are stamped out. Again he returns to the
comforting warmth to continue his watch, whilst his companions sleep on
securely in their arctic, fur-lined bags.

But the threat is real and deadly. Woe betide the foolish human soul who
ignores it, or fails to read it aright. The eyes of the forest are wide
awake.