220 THE STORY OF THE TRAPPER 



curtain one moment, rockets and wheels and dancing 

 patches of purple fire the next. 



Koot was no fool to become panicky and feeble 

 from sudden peril. He knew that he was snow-blind 

 on a pathless prairie at least two days away from the 

 fort. To wait until the snow-blindness had healed 

 would risk the few provisions that he had and perhaps 

 expose him to a blizzard. The one rule of the trap 

 per s life is to go ahead, let the going cost what it may; 

 and drawing his capote over his face, Koot went on. 



The heat of the sun told him the directions; and 

 when the sun went down, the crooning west wind, 

 bringing thaw and snow-crust, was his compass. And 

 when the wind fell, the tufts of shrub-growth sticking 

 through the snow pointed to the warm south. Now 

 he tied himself to his dog; and when he camped be 

 side trees into which he had gone full crash before he 

 knew they were there, he laid his gun beside the dog 

 and sleigh. Going out the full length of his cord, he 

 whittled the chips for his fire and found his way back 

 by the cord. 



On the second day of his blindness, no sun came up; 

 nor could he guide himself by the feel of the air, for 

 there was no wind. It was one of the dull dead gray 

 days that precedes storms. How would he get his di 

 rections to set out? Memory of last night s travel 

 might only lead him on the endless circling of the lost. 

 Koot dug his snow-shoe to the base of a tree, found 

 moss, felt it growing on only one side of the tree, knew 

 that side must be the shady cold side, and so took his 

 bearings from what he thought was the north. 



Koot said the only time that he knew any fear was 

 on the evening of the last day. The atmosphere boded 



