warlike and powerful savages, he had triumphed over hardships
and dangers the very name of which would make the ordinary man shudder,
and here he was about to be conquered by a mere shift of the wind that
brought snow.

He could have shouted aloud in anger, but instead he summoned all his
courage and strength anew and continued his hunt for a refuge.

CHAPTER XII

THE STAG'S COMING

The snow, famous in the annals of the tribes as one of the greatest that
ever fell so early in the autumn, continued to pour down. Where Henry
had sunk to his ankles, he now sank almost to his knees, and the
wilderness stretched away, without offering the shelter of any covert or
rocky hollow. His exertions made him very warm, but he was too wise to
take off the painted coat, lest he cool too fast. To fall ill in the
snowy forest, hunted by savages, was a thought to make the boldest
shudder, and he took no chances.

He fought the storm for hours. Rightly it could be called no storm, as
it was merely the placid fall of snow in huge quantities, but in the
long run it contained more elements of danger than a hurricane. Night
came and he was still struggling among the drifts, not walking now with
firm, straight steps, but staggering. Nearly all of his tremendous
strength was gone, exhausted, fighting against the impassive snowy
depths that always held him back. Once or twice he fell, but his will
brought him to his feet again, and he went on, his mind now directing
wholly the almost inert mass that was his body.

Twilight came, adding a new gloom to the somber heavens. All the animals
themselves seemed to have gone, and he strove alone for life amid the
vast desolation. Then he recalled his courage once more. On this great
expedition, when he was offering himself as a sacrifice for his people,
the miracles were always happening. At the last moment, when it did not
seem possible for him to be saved, he had always been saved, and surely
the miracle would occur once more!

He came to a huge tree, blown down by the wind, but yet projecting above
the snow, and sitting down on the trunk he leaned against an upthrust
root. He closed his eyes, for a moment or two, and the desire to keep
them shut, and sink into happy forgetfulness, was almost more than he
could resist. He made a gigantic effort and pulled himself back to full
consciousness, knowing that the easiest way, which in this case was the
way of yielding, would be the fatal way.