Henry advanced about a rod, and then he stopped, breathing hard, because it was desperate work for one in his condition to break his way through snow so deep.But his ankle stood the strain well, and his courage increased rather than diminished.He was no longer a cripple confined to one spot.While be stood resting, he noticed a clump of bushes about half a rod to his left, and a hopeful idea came to him.
He broke his way slowly to the bushes, and then he searched carefully among them.The snow was not nearly so thick there, and under the thickest clump, where the shelter was best, he saw a small round opening.In an instant all his old vigorous life, all the abounding hope which was such a strong characteristic of his nature, came back to him.Already he had triumphed over Indians, Tories, the mighty slope, snow, ice, crippling, and starvation.
He laid the rifle on the snow and took the ramrod in his right hand.He thrust his left hand into the hole, and when the rabbit leaped for life from his warm nest a smart blow of the ramrod stretched him dead at the feet of the hunter.Henry picked up the rabbit.It was large and yet fat.Here was food for two meals.In the race between the ankle and starvation, the ankle had won.
He did not give way to any unseemly elation.He even felt a momentary sorrow that a life must perish to save his own, because all these wild things were his kindred now.He returned by the path that he had broken, kindled his fire anew, dexterously skinned and cleaned his rabbit, then cooked it and ate half, although he ate slowly and with intervals between each piece.
How delicious it tasted, and how his physical being longed to leap upon it and devour it, but the power of the mind was still supreme.He knew what was good for himself, and he did it.
Everything was done in order and with sobriety.Then he put the rest of the rabbit carefully in his food pouch, wrapped the blanket about his body, leaned back, and stretched his feet to the coals.
What an extraordinary change had come over the world in an hour!
He had not noticed before the great beauty of the lake, the lofty cliffs on the farther shore, and the forest clothed in white and hanging with icicles.
The winter sunshine was molten silver, pouring down in a flood.
It was not will now, but actuality, that made him feel the strength returning to his frame.He knew that the blood in his veins had begun to sparkle, and that his vitality was rising fast.He could have gone to sleep peacefully, but instead he went forth and hunted again.He knew that where the rabbit had been, others were likely to be near, and before he returned he had secured two more.Both of these he cleaned and cooked at once.When this was done night had come, but he ate again, and then, securing all his treasures about him, fell into the best sleep that he had enjoyed since his flight.
He felt very strong the next morning, and he might have started then, but he was prudent.There was still a chance of meeting the Iroquois, and the ankle might not stand so severe a test.He would rest in his nest for another day, and then he would be equal to anything.Few could lie a whole day in one place with but little to do and with nothing passing before the eyes, but it was a part of Henry's wilderness training, and he showed all the patience of the forester.He knew, too, as the hours went by, that his strength was rising all the while.To-morrow almost the last soreness would be gone from his ankle and then he could glide swiftly over the snow, back to his comrades.He was content.He had, in fact, a sense of great triumph because he had overcome so much, and here was new food in this example for future efforts of the mind, for future victories of the will over the body.The wintry sun came to the zenith, then passed slowly down the curve, but all the time the boy scarcely stirred.Once there was a flight of small birds across the heavens, and he watched them vaguely, but apparently he took no interest.Toward night he stood up in his recess and flexed and tuned his muscles for a long time, driving out any stiffness that might come through long lack of motion.Then he ate and lay down, but he did not yet sleep.
The night was clear, and he looked away toward the point where he knew "The Alcove" lay.A good moon was now shining, and stars by the score were springing out.Suddenly at a point on that far shore a spark of red light appeared and twinkled.Most persons would have taken it for some low star, but Henry knew better.It was fire put there by human hand for a purpose, doubtless a signal, and as he looked a second spark appeared by the first, then a third, then a fourth.He uttered a great sigh of pleasure.It was his four friends signaling to him somewhere in the vast unknown that they were alive and well, and beckoning him to come.The lights burned for fifteen or twenty minutes, and then all went out together.Henry turned over on his side and fell sound asleep.In the morning he put on his snowshoes and started.
