oomy woods which gave back not a single ray of hope.
Again he felt the dreamy desire to sink into rest and complete oblivion,
and again he fought it off, knowing that it was the way of death. Then
he looked up at the somber skies, and prayed for one more miracle.

Henry, despite his wild, rough life, had much reverence in his nature.
The wilderness, too, with its varied manifestations, encouraged the
belief in a supreme power, just as it had given birth among the Indians
to a natural religion closely akin to the revealed religion of the white
man. Now, he was hopeful that in the extreme moment help would be sent
to him, and that the last of the miracles had not yet been performed.
Closing his eyes he said his prayer over and over again to himself, and
then opening them he stared as before at the desolate forest, empty of
everything living save his own presence.

But was it empty? Straight ahead of him he seemed to see an outline
through the falling snow, like a dim and dusky figure behind a veil. He
rose, new strength flowing into his veins, and took a step or two
forward, fearful that he had been deceived by one of the fancies or
visions, supposed to float before the eyes of the dying. Then he saw.
The dim outlines on the other side of the snowy veil grew clearer and he
traced the figure of a stag, larger than any other stag that had ever
trod the earth, gigantic and majestic.

The stag, too, was staring at him, and he knew it to be the same that he
had seen earlier in the day, though it had grown wonderfully in size
since then. It showed not the slightest trace of fear, but, instead, the
great luminous eyes seemed to him to express pity.

A thrill of superstitious awe ran through him. But it was awe, not fear.
The stag, gigantic and almost a phantom, did not threaten. It pitied,
and as Henry gazed at it with the fascinated eyes of one in a dream or
in an illusion so deep that it was a twin brother to reality, the deer
turned and walked slowly among the trees. Twenty paces, and, stopping an
instant, it looked back. The human figure was following and the deer
walked on, its stride measured and magnificent.

Henry did not doubt that his prayers had been answered, and that another
miracle had been ordered for his salvation. He became transformed as if
by magic. His head, which had been so heavy that it sagged upon his
shoulders, grew singularly light. The blood, stagnant before, leaped in
his veins like quicksilver, a