Unfortunately the night was coming fast. Thick gray gloom clothed the
whole east, and but little light showed in the west. Looking back he saw
no light in the hotel, but that was to be expected, as Picard would
certainly loop the curtains heavily over the windows. Out here in the
ruined town much of his extraordinary buoyancy departed. The cold and
the desolation of the world made him shiver a little. He thrust his hand
into the pocket of his overcoat, and closed it upon the butt of the
automatic.

He thought once of calling at the top of his voice for Weber, but
instinctive caution kept him from doing so. Then he caught sight of a
slender moving figure far ahead and feeling sure that it must be the
Alsatian he hurried forward. The figure moved on as fast as he, but,
eager in pursuit, he followed. It was shadowy and slim at the distance,
but he knew that it was a human being, and either it was Weber or some
man of Chastel returning to see what had happened to his town. In either
event he wished to overtake him.

But the figure led him a long chase. The man seemed to be moving with
some definite purpose, and kept a general course toward the east. Now
John called out once or twice, though not loudly, but the stranger
apparently did not hear him. Then he pushed the pursuit more vigorously,
breaking into a run, and just beyond the eastern rim of Chastel, feeling
sure now that it was the Alsatian, he called once more:

"Weber! Weber!"

The man paused and he seemed to John to look back, but the snow drifted
heavily between them just then, and when the cataract had passed he was
again moving on, more slender and dim than ever. Beyond him lay a little