THE TRAPPER 149 



. With a sudden start of returning consciousness, 

 the trapper reahzed the danger in which he stood. 

 If he gave way to the exhaustion and the cold 

 which together worked to paralyze his senses and 

 benumb his brain, he would never wake again. 



Between the mountains streaking off to the 

 north in a line of glittering pinnacles, that strange 

 phenomenon called by the natives " dog-suns," 

 shone down, a curious atmospheric effect for which 

 there seems no lucid explanation. Four faint mock- 

 suns supported the heatless orb, one on each side, 

 one above and below. 



Countless times the trapper had seen the par- 

 helion as the northern spring was ushered in, and 

 thought but little of it. Now in his semi-dazed 

 condition the shape of it struck him forcibly as 

 something familiar. 



A centre light, one on each side, one above and 

 below. 



He had it. A cross — a cross of fire. And crosses 

 marked graves 1 His feet, frost-bitten and dead, 

 could sustain him no more, and he dropped to the 

 snow drowsily. 



With a superhuman effort he began to crawl, 

 dragging himself along by inches. 



