Page:The trail of the golden horn.djvu/146

142 for breath, and to beat his hands together in order to get some warmth into his numbed fingers. He realised the seriousness of his situation, but he was determined not to give up. He must reach the forest beyond. Marion’s life depended upon his efforts, and he must not fail her. Again he struggled back upon the trail from which he had wandered. Once more he peered keenly ahead, hoping to catch sight of the friendly trees. But everything was blotted from view, and his eyes ached from the lashing of the cruel snow.

At length he felt that he could go no farther. He was becoming bewildered. The roar of the wind sounded like a demon hurling itself upon him. He groped for the trail like a blind man. He was almost waist-deep in the snow, and the snow-shoes were off his feet. His body was becoming numb. But he would not give up. He would fight the monster, and win out. With another frantic effort he threw himself forward, his hands reaching out. Then he lifted up his voice in one great cry of despair, the first that had ever come from his lips in all his years of service in the Force.

And as he stood there, his face turned appealingly toward the forest, the form of a man bending to the wind suddenly hove in sight. So unexpected was this appearance that the sergeant gave a gasp of surprise. The man seemed more than human as he advanced with long strides. The storm whipping his great body appeared not to impede him in the least. He was about to pass when North hailed him.

“Help! help!” he cried.

The traveller stopped short, swung quickly around, rubbed the snow from his eyes, and peered keenly in the direction from which the sound had come. In-