ver lower than ten feet,
rising often abruptly to thirty. Between them the water raged,
thundering over falls, leaping into deep pools where the sucking eddies
were never still.

And as she moved on upstream, further yet from the bridge, the rocky
banks grew steeper, drew nearer to each other, until suddenly the
plunging river was lost to her, its thunder muffled. Wanda could see a
thick mat of snow from a great, flat topped rock on the far side
curving downward, inward, as if from the eaves of a house, the long
icicles like sharp teeth set in a monster's gaping jaw.

Close along the edge of the cliffs the course of the fleeing rabbit
led, while Wanda's skis left their parallel smooth tracks in a straight
line a score of feet back from the steep bank. She slipped silently
through a clump of firs, peered around the branches bent down by the
heavy snow, and saw the snow-shoe rabbit where he had stopped for a
moment. He was a big fellow, the biggest she had ever seen, crouching
low, his round eyes bright and suspicious, as he trusted to his colour
to protect him. She brought her camera swiftly out of its case.

"There's a chance to get him, after all," she thought eagerly. "It
won't be much of a picture perhaps . . . just a white blur against a
white background . . ."

The camera clicked just as the rabbit leaped forward; she thought she
had caught him against the dark background of a fir from which much of
the snow had fallen. Then, just in front of the frightened animal a
little branch of a small pine, suddenly released of its weight of snow,
whipped up; a new terror came into the creature's panic stricken
breast; he stopped sharply, swerved, lost his head as one of his rattle
brained species is likely to do, ran directly toward the girl, swerved
again and running straight toward the river, essayed the impossible and
met destruction. He leaped far out across the water, attempting a jump
that none of his kind could have made safely, and fell short. The
furry body described a great valiant arc, shot upward for one flashing
second, dropped out of sight.

"Oh, I am so sorry," cried the girl contritely. "You poor little
thing."

The woodland tragedy moved her strangely, for she felt that, innocently
enough, she had caused it. She moved closer to see if by a happy
chance the rabbit had landed upon a rocky shelf far down, hoping that
after all she might in some way set him free.

Moving slowly, her camera ag