carried him on an improvised stretcher to the sled. Bart explained that
he had been lured further and further away by a large eagle that had kept
just out of range, and in his excitement he had at first paid no
attention to the storm. Finally its increasing fury and the memory of his
distance from home had brought him to his senses, and he had struck out
for the West Point road. Still he had no fears or misgivings, but while
climbing the slope on which he was found, he slipped, fell, and in trying
to save himself came down with his whole weight on a loose stone, and
sprained his left ankle. He tried to crawl and hobble forward, and for a
time gave way to something like panic. He soon found that he was using up
his strength, and that he would perish with the cold before he could make
half a mile. He then crawled under the sheltering ledge where Webb
discovered him, and by the aid of his good woodcraft soon had a fire, for
it was his fortune to have some matches. A dead and partially decayed
tree, a knife strong enough to cut the saplings when bent over, supplied
him with fuel. Finally the drowsiness which long exposure to cold induces
began to oppress him. He fought against it desperately for a time, but,
as events proved, was overpowered.

"God bless you, Webb!" he said, concluding his story. "You have saved my
life."

"We have all had a hand at it," was the quiet reply. "I couldn't have
done anything alone."

Wrapped up beyond the possibility of further danger from the cold, and
roused from time to time, Burt was carried homeward as fast as the drifts
permitted, the horses' bells now chiming musically in the still air.

* * * * *