most men, when it came to the toil of the wilds. He knew better
than to play himself out so that he would arrive exhausted and unable
to contend with the whole of his might. He was conscious as he ran
that he would arrive nearly unbreathed and ready for any fray. And
after he had swept off the intruders he would look upon the face of
his friend, the man who for months had shared food with him, and the
scented bedding of the woods, and the toil, and the downpours, and the
clouds of black flies and mosquitoes, and who had always smiled
through fair days and foul, and who, at the risk of his life, had
saved him.

And that friendship was so strong that it must help the sick man. How
could one be ill with a friend near by who had so much strength to
give away, such determination to make all things well, such fierce
power to contend with all inimical things? He would take him in his
arms and bid him be of good cheer and courage, and the man would
respond, would smile, would feel that strength being added to his own,
so that he would soon be well again.

All this might be deepest folly, and was not formulated as we have
been compelled to put it down in these pages. Rather it was but a
simple trust, a faith based on love and hope, a belief originating in
the mind of one of a nature so trusting and inclined to goodness that
until the last moment he would never believe in the victory of powers
of evil.

So Stefan caught up with his dogs again and stepped on the toboggan,
without stopping them, and the great trunks of forest giants seemed to
slip by him swiftly, while here and there, by dint of some formation
of hillside or gorge, his ears grew conscious of the far-away roar of
the great falls. From a little summit he saw the cloud of rising
vapor, all of a mile away. At every turn he peered ahead, keenly
disappointed on each occasion, for the party was not in sight. So he
urged the dogs faster. The big sleigh must surely be just ahead,
beyond the next turn.

"Oh, if dey touch one hair of de head of Hugo, den God pity dem!" he
cried out.

And the dogs ran on, more swiftly than ever, breathing easily still in
spite of the nearly three hundred pounds of manhood they drew, and the
roar of the falls became more distinct, while to the right, away down
below, the river swirled under the groaning ice and sped past wildly,
towards the east and the south, as if seeking to save itself from the
embrace of the North.

CHAPTER X