reach; and he replied to the prayer with the breath that came in
moaning exhaustion from between his lips.

He did not feel the soft, sun-packed snow under the beat of his feet.
He received the lash of low-hanging bushes without experiencing the
sensation of their sting. Only he knew that he wanted air--more and
more air; and to get it he ran with open mouth, struggling and gasping
for it, and yet not knowing that Jean de Gravois would have called him
a fool for the manner in which he sought it.

He heard more and more faintly the run of the sledge. Then he heard it
no longer, and even the cracking of the whip died away. His heart
swelled in a final bursting effort, and he plunged on, until at last
his legs crumpled under him and he pitched face downward in the snow,
like a thing stung by sudden death.

It was then, with his scratched and bleeding face lying in the snow,
that reason began to return to him. After a little while he dragged
himself weakly to his knees, still panting from the mad effort he had
made to overtake the sledge. From a great distance he heard faintly
the noise of shouting, the whispering echo of half a hundred voices,
and he knew that the sound came from the revelers at the post. It was
proof to him that there had been no interruption to the carnival, and
that the scene at the edge of the forest had been witnessed by none.
Quickly his mental faculties readjusted themselves. He rose to his
feet, and for a few moments stood hesitatingly. He had no weapon; but
as his hand rested upon the empty knife-sheath at his belt, there came
to him a thought of the way in which Mukee had avenged Cummins' wife,
and he turned again upon the trail. He no longer touched the low-
hanging bushes. He was no more than a shadow, appearing and