the scouts of the valley-第59章

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　　He　could　sniff　the　aroma；　so　powerful　had　his　imagination　become；　and；　in　fancy；　his　month　watered；　while　its　roof　was　really　dry。　　They　were　daylight　visions；　and　he　knew　it　well；　but　they　taunted　him　and　made　his　pain　fiercer。　　He　slid　forward　a　little　to　the　mouth　of　his　shelter；　and　thrust　out　his　rifle　in　the　hope　that　be　would　see　some　wild　creature；　no　matter　what；　he　felt　that　be　could　shoot　it　at　any　distance；　and　then　he　would　feast！

He　saw　nothing　living；　either　on　earth　or　in　the　air；　only　motionless　white；　and　beyond；　showing　but　faintly　now　through　the　coming　twilight；　the　lofty　cliff　that　had　saved　him。

He　drew　back　into　his　lair；　and　the　darkness　came　down。　　Despite　his　hunger；　he　slept　fairly　well。　　In　the　night　a　little　snow　fell　at　times；　but　his　blanket　roof　protected　him；　and　he　remained　dry　and　warm。　　The　new　snow　was；　in　a　way；　a　satisfaction；　as　it　completely　hid　his　trail　from　the　glance　of　any　wandering　Indian。　　　　　　　He　awoke　the　next　morning　to　a　gray；　somber　day；　with　piercing　winds　from　the　northwest。　　He　did　not　feel　the　pangs　of　hunger　until　he　had　been　awake　about　a　half　hour；　and　then　they　came　with　redoubled　force。　　Moreover；　he　bad　become　weaker　in　the　night；　and；　added　to　the　loss　of　muscular　strength；　was　a　decrease　in　the　power　of　the　will。　　Hunger　was　eating　away　his　mental　as　well　as　his　physical　fiber。　　He　did　not　face　the　situation　with　quite　the　same　confidence　that　he　felt　the　day　before。　　The　wilderness　looked　a　little　more　threatening。

His　lips　felt　as　if　he　were　suffering　from　fever；　and　his　shoulders　and　back　were　stiff。　　But　he　drew　his　belt　tighter　again；　and　then　uncovered　his　left　ankle。　　The　swelling　had　gone　down　a　little；　and　he　could　move　it　with　more　freedom　than　on　the　day　before；　but　he　could　not　yet　walk。　　Once　more　he　made　his　grim　calculation。　　In　two　days　he　could　certainly　walk　and　hunt　game　or　make　a　try　for　〃The　Alcove；〃　so　far　as　his　ankle　was　concerned；　but　would　hunger　overpower　him　before　that　time？　　Gaining　strength　in　one　direction；　he　was　losing　it　in　another。

Now　he　began　to　grow　angry　with　himself。　　The　light　inroad　that　famine　made　upon　his　will　was　telling。　　It　seemed　incredible　that　he；　so　powerful；　so　skillful；　so　self　reliant；　so　long　used　to　the　wilderness　and　to　every　manner　of　hardship；　should　be　held　there　in　a　snowbank　by　a　bruised　ankle　to　die　like　a　crippled　rabbit。　　His　comrades　could　not　be　more　than　ten　miles　away。　　He　could　walk。　　He　would　walk！　　He　stood　upright　and　stepped　out　into　the　snow；　but　pain；　so　agonizing　that　he　could　scarcely　keep　from　crying　out；　shot　through　his　whole　body；　and　he　sank　back　into　the　shelter；　sure　not　to　make　such　an　experiment　again　for　another　full　day。

The　day　passed　much　like　its　predecessor；　except　that　he　took　down　the　blanket　cover　of　his　snow　hut　and　kindled　up　his　fire　again；　more　for　the　sake　of　cheerfulness　than　for　warmth；　because　he　was　not　suffering　from　cold。　　There　was　a　certain　life　and　light　about　the　coals　and　the　bright　flame；　but　the　relief　did　not　last　long；　and　by　and　by　he　let　it　go　out。　　Then　be　devoted　himself　to　watching　the　heavens　and　the　surface　of　the　snow。　　Some　winter　bird；　duck　or　goose；　might　be　flying　by；　or　a　wandering　deer　might　be　passing。　　He　must　not　lose　any　such　chance。　　He　was　more　than　ever　a　fierce　creature　of　prey；　sitting　at　the　mouth　of　his　den；　the　rifle　across　his　knee；　his　tanned　face　so　thin　that　the　cheek　bones　showed　high　and　sharp；　his　eyes　bright　with　fever　and　the　fierce　desire　for　prey；　and　the　long；　lean　body　drawn　forward　as　if　it　were　about　to　leap。

He　thought　often　of　dragging　himself　down　to　the　lake；　breaking　a　hole　in　the　ice；　and　trying　to　fish；　but　the　idea　invariably　came　only　to　be　abandoned。　　He　had　neither　hook　nor　bait。　　In　the　afternoon　he　chewed　the　edge　of　his　buckskin　hunting　shirt；　but　it　was　too　thoroughly　tanned　and　dry。　　It　gave　back　no　sustenance。　　He　abandoned　the　experiment　and　lay　still　for　a　long　time。

That　night　he　had　a　slight　touch　of　frenzy；　and　began　to　laugh　at　himself。　　It　was　a　huge　joke！　　What　would　Timmendiquas　or　Thayendanegea　think　of　him　if　they　knew　how　he　came　to　his　end？　　They　would　put　him　with　old　squaws　or　little　children。　　And　how　Braxton　Wyatt　and　his　lieutenant；　the　squat　Tory；　would　laugh！　　That　was　the　bitterest　thought　of　all。　　But　the　frenzy　passed；　and　he　fell　into　a　sleep　which　was　only　a　succession　of　bad　dreams。　　He　was　running　the　gauntlet　again　among　the　Shawnees。　　Again；　kneeling　to　drink　at　the　clear　pool；　he　saw　in　the　water　the　shadow　of　the　triumphant　warrior　holding　the　tomahawk　above　him。　　One　after　another　the　most　critical　periods　of　his　life　were　lived　over　again；　and　then　he　sank　into　a　deep　torpor；　from　which　he　did　not　rouse　himself　until　far　into　the　next　day。

Henry　was　conscious　that　he　was　very　weak；　but　he　seemed　to　have　regained　much　of　his　lost　will。　　He　looked　once　more　at　the　fatal　left　ankle。　　It　had　improved　greatly。　　He　could　even　stand　upon　it；　but　when　he　rose　to　his　feet　he　felt　a　singular　dizziness。　　Again；　what　he　had　gained　in　one　way　he　had　lost　in　another。　　The　earth　wavered。　　The　smooth　surface　of　the　lake　seemed　to　rise　swiftly；　and　then　to　sink　as　swiftly。　　The　far　slope　down　which　he　had　shot　rose　to　the　height　of　miles。　　There　was　a　pale　tinge；　too；　over　the　world。　　He　sank　down；　not　because　of　his　ankle；　but　because　he　was　afraid　his　dizzy　head　would　make　him　fall。

The　power　of　will　slipped　away　again　for　a　minute　or　two。　　He　was　ashamed　of　such　extraordinary　weakness。　　He　looked　at　one　of　his　hands。　　It　was　thin；　like　the　band　of　a　man　wasted　with　fever；　and　the　blue　veins　stood　out　on　the　back　of　it。　　He　could　scarcely　believe　that　the　hand　was　his　own。　　But　after　the　first　spasm　of　weakness　was　over；　the　precious　will　returned。　　He　could　walk。　　Strength　enough　to　permit　him　to　hobble　along　had　returned　to　the　ankle　at　last；　and　mind　must　control　the　rest　of　his　nervous　system；　however　weakened　it　might　be。　　He　must　seek　food。

He　withdrew　into　the　farthest　recess　of　his　covert；　wrapped　the　blanket　tightly　about　his　body；　and　lay　still　for　a　long　time。　　He　was　preparing　both　mind　and　body　for　the　supreme　effort。　　He　knew　that　everything　hung　now　on　the　surviving　remnants　of　his　skill　and　courage。　

Weakened　by　shock　and　several　days　of　fasting；　he　had　no　great　reserve　now　except　the　mental；　and　he　used　that　to　the　utmost。　　It　was　proof　of　his　youthful　greatness　that　it　stood　the　last　test。　　As　he　lay　there；　the　final　ounce　of　will　and　courage　came。　　Strength　which　was　of　the　mind　rather　than　of　the　body　flowed　back　into　his　veins；　he　felt　able　to　dare　and　to　do；　the　pale　aspect　of　the　world　went　away；　and　once　more　he　was　Henry　Ware；　alert；　skillful；　and　always　triumphant。

Then　he　rose　again；　folded　the　blanket；　and　fastened　it　on　his　shoulders。　　He　looked　at　the　snowshoes；　but　decided　that　his　left　ankle；　despite　its　great　improvement；　would　not　stand　the　strain。　　He　must　break　his　way　through　the　snow；　which　was　a　full　three　feet　in　depth。　　Fortunately　the　crust　had　softened　somewhat　in　the　last　two　or　three　days；　and　he　did　not　have　a　covering　of　ice　to　meet。

He　pushed　his　way　for　the　first　time　from　the　lair　under　the　cliff；　his　rifle　held　in　his　ready　hands；　in　order　that　he　might　miss　no　chance　at　game。　　To　an　ordinary　observer　there　would　have　been　no　such　chance　at　all。　　It　was　merely　a　grim　white　wilderness　that　might　have　been　without　anything　living　from　the　beginning。　　But　Henry；　the　forest　runner；　knew　better。　　Somewhere　in　the　snow　were　lairs　much　like　the　one　that　he　had　left；　and　in　these　lairs　were　wild　animals。　　To　any　such　wild　animal；　whether　panther　or　bear；　the　hunter　would　now　have　been　a　fearsome　object；　with　his　hollow　cheeks；　his　sunken　fiery　eyes；　and　his　thin　lips　opening　now　and　then；　and　disclosing　the　two　rows　of　strong　white　teeth。

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