Reynolds, however, was well hardened to desperate situations. Often in
France he had been alone in "No Man's Land," with death close at hand.
He had never flinched then, and he was determined that he would not do
so now.

"I told Harmon that I like adventure and desperate undertakings," he
mused. "I have certainly enough here to satisfy me for a while. But
it can't be helped, and so I must make the best of it. Rest is what I
need at present, and I am not going to worry about to-morrow. 'One
thing at a time' has been my motto, and I guess it's a good one."

He awoke early the next morning, though the sun was up ahead of him.
He sprang to his feet and peered around. But nothing could he see,
except trees on every side.

"I must get out of this," he muttered, "and strike for the high hills.
Perhaps there I may be able to get my proper bearings. I must find a
breakfast somewhere, but with my scanty supply of ammunition, it is
necessary to be careful."

Picking up his rifle, he started forth, and for several hours moved
steadily onward. Through a break in the forest he had caught sight of
a high hill, and toward this he laboriously made his way. He had to
descend first into a deep valley, where a large wild meadow offered an
inviting feeding-ground for moose. But not a sign of life could he
see, and greatly disappointed he was forced to begin the hard climb up
the opposite side of the hill.

About the middle of the afternoon he succeeded in shooting a rabbit,
which he at once skinned and broiled over a small fire. He was weak