United States. He laughed with grim humor.

"I am lost to history," he murmured, "and geography will not tell
me where I am."

He crossed a swell--he knew them now more by feeling than by
sight--and before beginning the slight assent of the next one he
stopped to eat. He had been enough of a frontiersman, before
starting upon such a trip, to store jerked buffalo in the skin
knapsack that he had saved for himself. The jerked meat offered
the largest possible amount of sustenance in the smallest
possible space, and Dick ate eagerly. Then he felt a great
renewal of courage and strength. He also drank of the snow
water, that is, he dissolved the snow in his mouth, but he did
not like it much.

He stood there for a while resting, and resolved only to walk
enough to keep himself warm. Certainly, nothing was to be gained
by exhausting himself and the snow which was now a foot deep
showed no signs of abating. The white gloom hung all about him
and he could not see the sky overhead.

Just as he took this resolution, Dick saw a shadow in the
circling white. The shadow was like that of a man, but before he
could see farther there was a little flash of red, a sharp,
stinging report, and a bullet clipped the skin of his cheek,
burning like fire. Dick was startled, and for full cause--but
he recognized the Sioux warrior who had fought him on horseback.
He had stared too long at that man and at a time too deadly not
to know that head and face and the set of his figure. He had
followed Dick through all the hours and falling snow, bent upon
taking his life. A second shot, quickly following the first,
showed that he meant to miss no chance.

The second bullet, like the first, just grazed Dick, and mild of
temper though he habitually was, he was instantly seized with the
fiercest rage. He could not understand such hatred, such
ferocity, such an eagerness to take human life. And this was the
man whom he had spared, whom he could easily have slain when he
was running! The Sioux was raising his rifle for a third bullet,
when Dick shot him through the chest. There was no doubt about
his aim now. It was not disturbed by the whitish mist and the
falling snow.

The Sioux fell full length, without noise and without struggle,
and his gun flew from his hand. His body lay half buried in the
snow, some of the long eagle feathers in his hair thrusting up
like the wing of a slain bird. Dick looked at him with
shuddering hor