The Angler's Story 53 



slept, how long he did not know. The moun- 

 tain wind rose, and as the tree bent and waved, 

 great patches of snow fell and struck the 

 branches and sifted down with more or less 

 force. Then came a quiver, a rush, the very 

 mountain shaking; it was an avalanche in some 

 adjoining caiion, perhaps one that he had passed; 

 and then came the terror that he had slept too 

 long, that he was losing time. 



Throwing off the snow, he repacked, slung the 

 burden upon his back, moved out into the moon- 

 light, and sped on down the canon. How weird 

 it was! Ghosts and phantoms stalked every- 

 where; they hung from trees, they blocked his 

 way and seemed to be flying as banners of snow, 

 swinging on the wind that wailed down through 

 the pass. He was passing a canon that in 

 summer was the bed of a stream, now filled 

 with snow, from which, on either side, rose rocks 

 overhung with snow veneered with ice, that 

 caught the gleams of the moon. A strange 

 moaning sound came down the wind, and ever 

 and anon the booming crash and fall of rocks 

 filled the vibrant air with sound, so that the 

 man often stopped, awed and silenced by the 

 throes of nature. And so for two days more 

 he strode on, always to the south. 



The snow grew finer, and the travelling slow. 

 As the moon sank one night, Clancy sought the 

 shelter of an overhanging boulder and slid into 



