362 Sporting Sketches 



the tortured engine pumping to bursting strain. I 

 cursed the hampering clothes and the buttons that 

 seemed ever drawing tighter, the thongs that cut 

 deep now, and the nets that had to be swung true 

 while they felt like lead to the feet. 



At last came the blessed " second wind," and none 

 too soon, for it found me rocking. The snow-padded 

 back was ten yards ahead now, rising and falling 

 with the same old motion. Ever and anon a savage 

 swirl would hide it in a blur of white, but I was 

 going easier and felt I could close the gap at will. 

 Presently it vanished, and on the instant of its dis- 

 appearance I realized my danger and spurted vigor- 

 ously. Before I had time to think, Jo was again in 

 view, and I mentally vowed that not for my life 

 would I let him out of my sight. Indian-like, he had 

 no idea of halting or looking round to see how I 

 fared. I was to follow if I failed to do so, that 

 was my affair. When an Indian gets scared, he's 

 the worst scared thing imaginable; and Jo was going 

 to the cabin by the shortest route. If I failed to make 

 it, he'd hunt for me after the weather cleared. 



Through the roar and the whine and the icy fog of 

 it all we pounded ahead. First, an uneasy dread took 

 hold of me. Did Jo know whither he was drift- 

 ing? Had his instinct for the once failed? We 

 seemed to have covered an awfully long route. 

 Then another and worse fear came, I was getting 

 tired. No mistake about that. No one knew 

 better than their owner why leg muscles were com- 

 plaining so. One quarter of a mile farther, if we 

 had to do so much, and I'd be done so brown that a 

 bake-oven couldn't tan me more." 



