ard, looked sharply before them. Every tuft that appeared above the
snow was scrutinized, and every inch of the ground, as it came into
view, was examined.

At length they crossed the escarpment of the hill, and stood upon the
summit. They gazed forward with disappointed feelings. The hill-top was
a sort of table plain, of about three hundred yards in diameter. It was
covered with snow, nearly a foot in depth. A few heads of withered grass
were seen above the surface, but not enough to subdue the uniform white
that prevailed all over. There was no creature upon it; that was
evident. A bird as big as a sparrow, or a quadruped as large as a
shrew-mouse, could have been seen upon any part of it. A single glance
satisfied all of them that no living thing was there.

They halted without proceeding farther. Some of them could not have gone
another mile, and all of them were tottering in their tracks. Marengo
had arrived upon the summit, and stood a little to one side, with the
sledge behind him.

"_You_ must do it!" said Basil, speaking to Norman in a hoarse voice,
and turning his head away. Lucien and Francois stepped aside at the same
time, and stood as if looking down the hill. The countenances of all
three betokened extreme sorrow. There was a tear in Basil's eye that he
was trying to wipe away with his sleeve.

The sharp click of Norman's gun was heard behind them, and they were all
waiting for the report, when, at that moment, a dark shadow passing over
the white declivity arrested their attention! It was the shadow of a
bird upon the wing. The simultaneous exclamation of all three stayed
Norman's finger--already pressing upon the trigger--and the latter,
turning round, saw that they were regarding some object in the air. It
was a bird of great size--almost as large as an eagle, but with the
plumage of a swan. It was white all over--both body and wings--white as
the snow over which it was sailing. Norman knew the bird at a glance.
Its thick short neck and large head--its broad-spreading wings, of milky
whiteness, were not to be mistaken. It was the "great snowy owl" of the
Arctic regions.

Its appearance suddenly changed the aspect of affairs. Norman let the
butt of his rifle fall to the ground, and stood, like the rest, watching
the bird in its flight.

The snowy owl is, perhaps, the most beautiful, as it is one of the most
powerful birds of its genus--of which there are more than a dozen in
North America. It is