reaching stride of
the expert snow-shoer bore him rapidly along.

He paused in the valley below and took fresh bearings. He intended to
strike through the heart of the mountains. The Pass was his goal, for
he knew that there lay the main trail he sought.

He cast about for the landmarks which he had located during his long
tenancy of the dugout. Not a branch of a tree rustled. Not a breath of
air fanned the steaming breath which poured from his lips. His mind
was centred on his object, but the nervous realization of loneliness
was upon him.

Suddenly the awful stillness was broken. The man bent his head in a
listening attitude. The sound came from behind and he turned sharply.
His movement was hurried and anxious. His nerves were not steady. A
long-drawn-out wail rose upon the air. Fifty yards behind stood the
wounded hound gazing after him as if he, too, were endeavouring to
ascertain the right direction. The creature was standing upon three
legs, the fourth was hanging useless, and the blood was dripping from
the footless limb.

The man turned away with an impatient shrug and stepped out briskly.
He knew his direction now, and resolutely centred his thoughts upon
his journey. Past experience told him that this would tax all his
energy and endurance, and that he must keep a clear head, for he was
not a native of the country, nor had he the instinct of one whose life
had been passed in a mountainous world. Once he turned at the sound of
a plaintive whining, and, to his annoyance, he saw that the dog was
following him. A half-nervous laugh escaped him, but he did not pause.
He had hitherto forgotten the creature, and this was an unpleasant
reminder.

An hour passed. The exhilarating exercise had cleansed the atmosphere
of the murderer's thoughts. Once only he looked back over his shoulder
as some memory of the dog flashed across his brain. He could see
nothing but the immaculate gleam of snow. Something of the purity of
his surroundings seemed to communicate itself to his thoughts. He
found himself looking forward to a life, the honest, respectable life,
which the burden he carried in his pack would purchase for him. He saw
himself the owner of vast tracts of pasture, with stock grazing upon
it, a small but comfortable house, and a wife. He pictured to himself
the joys of a pastoral life, a community in which his opinions and
influence would be matters of importance. He would be looked up to,
and gradually, as hi