then a foot, and what
was he to do?

He was thankful once more for the painted robe, and also for the wild
turkey that he had pilfered, and knowing that he must keep warm, he
started on a dreary walk toward the north. The snow was pouring so hard
that he could scarcely see, but he heard a sound to his right, and
presently he was able to discern an immense stag floundering in some
undergrowth in which its hoofs seemed to be caught.

Henry could easily have shot the deer and it would have furnished an
unlimited supply of food, at a time when he might be snowed up for days.
He always believed afterward, too, that the deer expected to be killed,
as it ceased its struggles and looked at him with great, pathetic eyes.
It was a magnificent stag, the largest he had ever seen, but he had no
heart to shoot. His own eyes met the appealing gaze from those of the
king of the woods and he felt sorry. Nothing could have induced him to
shoot. He sincerely hoped that the stag would pull free, and as the
thought came to him the wish was fulfilled.

The left forefoot, which was entangled, suddenly came loose and unhurt.
Never did Henry see a transformation more rapid and complete. The stag,
before pathetic and depressed, a beaten beast, expanded in the twinkling
of an eye into a mighty monarch of the forest. He stood erect, threw
back his great head in a gesture of triumph, looked once more at the
human being whom nature had taught him instinctively to dread, but who
had not harmed him when he was at his mercy, then stalked away, until he
was lost behind the white veil of the snowy fall.

Henry felt gladness. He was glad that he had not shot, and he was glad
that the stag had released his foot, or otherwise he would have perished
under the teeth of wolves. Then he addressed himself to his own peril,
which was great and increasing. He hunted the deepest portions of the
woods, but the snow sought him there. He stood under the trees of the
thickest boughs, but the white fall gradually poured through, heaping
upon his head, his shoulders and the folds of his robe. He would brush
it off and move on to another place, merely to find it gathering again,
and, by and by, his great muscles began to feel weariness. He plodded
for hours in the deepening snow, seeking a refuge from this persistent
and deadly fall, but finding none. A sort of despair, almost unknown to
him, oppressed him for a little while. He had fought off innumerable
attacks of