s between the gusts. Just below him he could hear the
occasional mutters of laconic sentences and grunted answers as the bucks
settled themselves for the night, and he had a short, panicky spell of
fearing that the poles would give way beneath him and drop him in upon
them.

After a while--it seemed hours to Buddy--the wind settled down to a
steady gale. The Indians, so far as he could determine, were all asleep
in the cellar. And Buddy, setting his teeth hard together, began to
slide slowly backward toward the opening through which he had crawled
into the roof. When he had crawled in he had not noticed the springiness
of the poles, but now his imagination tormented him with the sensation
of sagging and swaying. When his feet pushed through the opening he had
to grit his teeth to hold himself steady. It seemed as if someone were
reaching up in the dark to catch him by the legs and pull him out.
Nothing happened, however, and after a little he inched backward until
he hung with his elbows hooked desperately inside the opening, his head
and shoulders within and protesting with every nerve against leaving the
shelter.

Buddy said afterwards that he guessed he'd have hung there until
daylight, only he was afraid it was about time to change guard, and
somebody might catch him. But he said he was scared to let go and drop,
because it must have been pretty crowded in the cellar, and he knew
the door was open, and some buck might be roosting outside handy to be
stepped on. But he knew he had to do something, because if he ever went
to sleep up in that place he'd snore, maybe; and anyway, he said, he'd
rather run himself to death than starve to death. So he dropped.

It was two days after that when Buddy shuffled into a mining camp on
the ridge just north of Douglas Pass. He was still on his feet, but
they dragged like an old man's. He had walked twenty-five miles in two
nights, going carefully, in fear of Indians. The first five miles he had
waded along the shore of the creek, he said, in case they might pick up
his tracks at the dugout and try to follow him. He had hidden himself
like a rabbit in the brush through the day, and he had not dared shoot
any meat, wherefore he had not eaten anything.

"I ain't as hungry as I was at first," He grinned tremulously. "But I
guess I better--eat. I don' want--to lose the--habit--" Then he went
slack and a man swearing to hide his pity picked him up in his arms and
carried him into th