Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1902-10-15

would project when clutched in the fist.
| But his fingers stood straight out.
They could not CLUTCH This he over.
came by pressing the wrist of the other
hand against them, and so forcing them
down upon the bunch. Time and
| again, holding thus by both hands, he
scratched the bunch on his leg and
| finally ignited it. But the fame burned
| into the flesh of his hand, and he in
voluntarily relaXed his hold. The
bunch fell into the snow, and while he
tried vainly to pick it up, sizzled and
| went out.
Again he ran, by this time badly
frightened. His feet were utterly de-
void Of sensation. He stubbod his toes
once on buried log, but beyond pitch
ing him into the snow and wrenching
his back, it gave him no feelings.
His fingers were helpless and his
wrists We're beginning to grow numb.
His nose and cheeks he knew were
freezing, but they did not count. 1t
was his feet and hands that were to
save him if he was to be saved.
lie rccollected being told CT n camp
of moose hunters somewhere above the
forks of Paul Creek. He must be
somewhere near it, he thought, and if
he could find it he yet might be saved.
Five minutes later he came upon it.
lone and deserted, with drifted snow
sprinkled inside the pine bough shelter
in which the hunters had slept He
sank down, sobbing. All was over.
In an hour at best, in that terrific tenn
perature, he would be an icy CORPSE.
But the love Of life was strong in
him, and he sprang to his feet. He was
thinking quickly. What if the matches
did burn his hands? Burned hands
were better than dead hands. No
hands at all were better than death.
He foundered along the trail until he
came upon another high-water lodg-
ment There were twigs and branches.
leaves and grasses, all dry and waiting
the fire.
Again he sat down and shuffied the
bunch of matches on his knees, got it
into place on his palm, with the wrist
of his other hand forced the nerveless
fingers down against the bunch, and
with the wrist kept them there. At the
second scratch the bunch caught fire,
and he knew that if he could stand the
pain he was saved. He choked with
the sulphur fumes. and the blue flame
licked the flesh Of his hands.
At first he could not feel 1t, but 1t
burned quickly in through the frosted
surface. The odor of the burning flesh
his flesh-was strong in his nostrils
He writhed about in his torment, vet
held on. He set his teeth and swayed
back and forth until the clear white
flame of the burning match shot up,
and he had applied that flame to the
leaves and grasses.
An anxious five minutes followed, but
the fire gained steadily. Then he set to
work to save himself. Heroic meas
ures were necessary, such was his ex-
tremity, and he took them.
Alternately rubbing his hands with
snow and thrusting them into the
flames, and now and again beating
them against the hard trees, he re-
stored their circulation sufficiently for
them to be of use to him. With his
hunting knife he slashed the straps
from his pack, unrolled his blanket and
got out dry socks and footgear.
Then he cut away his moccasins and
barred his feet. But while he had taken
liberties with his hands he kept his
feet fairly away from the fire and
rubbed them with snow. He rubbed
till his hands grew numb, when he
would cover his feet with the blanket,
warm his hands by the fire and return
to the rubbing.
For three hours he worked till the
worst effects of the freezing had been
counteracted. All that night he stayed
by the fire, and it was late the next day
when he limped pitifully into the camp
on the Cherry Creek Divide.
In months time he was able to be
about on his feet, although the toes
were destined always after that to be
very sensitive to frost. But the scars
on his hands he knows he will carry
to the grave. And - "Never travel
alone" he now lays down the precept
Of the north.-Youths Companion.
Unu, ca