The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1906-01-25
THE MOONLIGHT TRAILERS.
BY FRANK LILLE POLLOCK.

Of pushing through the snowy thickets
he came unexpectedly upon the shore
of good-sized river. covered deep
with snow. white avenue winding
| away into the midnight forest.
AS he came out upon this convenient
road he caught again the hunting chorus
of the wolf pack, far away, but still
appreciably nearer. He started up the
river at { swinging trot, looking about
for good place to ambush himself,
when the ice suddenly gave way under
his feet, and he went down with so
swift a plunge that he had only time
for shuddering gasp!
The trapper had stepped on an air.
hole lightly crusted over with snow.
He went down to his neck without
touching bottom, end the black water
surged up into his face. It was his
rife that saved him from going under;
it caught across the hole, and he clung
to it fercely. AS the current was for
tunately not rapid, he manage to draw
himself up.
But he found himself unable to ex-
tricate his feet. The long-tailed SNOW
shoes had gone down point foremost,
and now were crossed under the ice.
and refused to come up. He dared not
cut them loose, for in the deep snow
he would have been helpless. Grow
ing fainter at every moment, he strug-
gled in the deadly chill of the water
for four or five minutes before he at
last succeeded in bringing them up end
first, as they had gone down.
When he staggered back stifly upon
the snow the very life seemed with
drawn from his bones. His beard was
a cake of ice, and his heavy clothing
had frozen into a coat of mail almost
as hard as iron plate. There was no
sensation left in his limbs, and he
trembled with numb shuddering.
Long. forest training told him what
must be done. He must have fire at
once. He would have to find a dry
birch tree or a splintered pine that
would light easily.
His benumber brain clung to this
idea, and he began to stumble toward.
shore, his snow-shoes sheets Of ice, and
his clothes rafting as he went. But
with hunters instinct he stuck to
his rife, tucking it under his icy arm.
He could see no birch tree, and the
bank was oordered with an impenetra-
BILE growth Of alders. He dragged him
self up the river, and each step seemed
to require a more and more intolerable
exertion.
He could not feel his feet as he lifted
and put them down; when he. saw them
moving they looked like things inde-
pendent Of himself. He had ceased to
feel cold. He no longer felt an!thing,
except a deadly WEAKNESS that was
crushing him into the snow.
He went on, however, driven by the
fighting instinct, till Of sudden he
saw 1.-THE birch tree he was seeking,
shining spectrally among the black
spruces by the river.
It was an old, half-dead tree, covered
with great curls of bark that would
fare up at the touch Of a match. He
had matches in q waterproof box, and
he contrived to get them out Of his
frozen pocket. He dropped the box
half q dozen times in trying to open it,
opened it at last with his teeth, and
dropped it again, spilling the matches
into the snow.
Snow is as dry as sand at that tenn
perature, and he scraped them up, and
tried to strike one on the rife-barrel.
But ne was unable to hold the bit Of
wood in his numbed fingers; there was
absolutely no feeling in his hands, and
the match fell from his grasp at every
attempt. This is a familiar peri: in the
north woods, where dozens OF men
have frozen to death with frewood and
matches beside them, from sheer in
ability to strike light.
Stanley beat his hands together with
out effect. He began to grow indiffer-
ent; and as he fumbled again for the
dropped match he fell at full length
into the snow.
A sense of pleasant relief overcame
him, and he decided to rest there for a
few minutes. The snow was soft, and
he had never before realized how warm
it was. His shoulders were propped
against the roots Of the birch, and with
a hazy consciousness that game might
be expected, he dragged his rifle across
his knees and cooked it. Then, with a
comfortable sense of duty done, he
closed his eyes.
Curious and delightful fancies began
at once to food his brain. fancies so
vivid that he seemed not to lose
consciousness at all. How long he
lay there he never knew. But he grew
| alive at last to a vise-like pressure on
his left arm that seemed to have lasted
for years, and which was growing to
excruciating pain.
| He opened his eyes with great
effort. There were savage, hairy faces
close to lis own, pouring out clouds OF
steaming breath into the frosty air
| So,,,+b;po bod him nv tha arE: Will