ir-trees, touched grimly with red flashes from his
fire. He knew well--none better than he--the savage and implacable
sternness of the wild. He knew how dreadful the silent adversary
against whom he had been called, all unprepared, to pit his craft.
There was no blinking the imminence of his peril. Hitherto he had
always managed to work, more or less, _with_ nature, and so had come
to regard the elemental forces as friendly. Now they had turned upon
him altogether and without warning. His anger rose as he realized that
he was at bay. The indomitable man-spirit awoke with the anger.
Sitting up suddenly, over the edge of the trench his deep eyes looked
out upon the shadowy spaces of the night with challenge and defiance.
Against whatever odds, he declared to himself, he was master. Having
made his proclamation in that look, Pete Noel lay down again and went
to sleep.

After the fashion of winter campers and of woodsmen generally, he
awoke every hour or so to replenish the fire; but toward morning he
sank into the heavy sleep of fatigue. When he aroused himself from
this, the fire was stone grey, the sky overhead was whitish, flecked
with pink streamers, and rose-pink lights flushed delicately the green
wall of the fir-trees leaning above him. The edges of the blankets
around his face were rigid and thick with ice from his breathing.
Breaking them away roughly, he sat up, cursed himself for having let
the fire out, then, with his eyes just above the edge of the trench,
peered forth across the shining waste. As he did so, he instinctively
shrank back into concealment. An eager light flamed into his eyes, and
he blessed his luck that the fire had gone out. Along the crest of the
ridge, among the rampikes, silhouetted dark and large against the
sunrise, moved a great herd of caribou, feeding as they went.

Crouching low in his trench, Pete hurriedly did up his blankets, fixed
the pack on his back, then crawled through the snow into the shelter
of the fir-woods. As soon as he was out of sight, he arose, recovered
the thongs of his larrigans from the futile snare, and made his way
back on the trail as fast as he could flounder. That one glance over
the edge of his trench had told his trained eye all he needed to know
about the situation.

The caribou, most restless, capricious, and far-wandering of all the
wilderness kindreds, were drifting south on one of their apparently
aimless migrations. They were travelling on the ridg