, 1922-09-06
CHAPTER vIII-continued.

3
He examined the mud about the
spring, n there was plenty of evil
dence that the forest creatures had
passed that way. Here was a little
triangle where a buck had stepped,
and further away he found two pairs
of deer tracks-evidently those of a
doe with fawn. A wolf had stopped
to coo his heated tongue in the wa
tiers, possibly in the middle of some
terrible hum in the twilight hours.
Then he found a huge abrasion in
the mud that puzzled him still more.
AT the first he couldn't believe that
1t was a track. The reason was sim
ply that the size of the thing was in
credible-as If some one had laid a
flour sack in the mud and taken it up
again. He did not think of any of
the modern-day forest creatures as
being of such proportions. 1t was
very stale and had been almost oblit-
Grated by many days of sun. Perhaps
he had been mistaken in thinking it
an imprint of a living creature. He
went to his knees to examine it. 4
But in one instant he knew that he
had not been mistaken. 1t was a
track not greatly different from that
of an human foot; and the
separate toes were entirely distinct.
1t was a bear track, of course. but
n of such size that the general run
of little black bears that inhabited
the hills could almost use it for a den
of hibernationi
He got up and went on-farther
toward Trails End. He walked more
swiftly now, for he hoped to reach
the end of Pine-Needle Trail before
nightfali. but he had no intention of
halting in case night came upon him
before he reached it. He had waited
too long already to find Linda.
Another hour ended the days sun
light. The shadows fell quickly, but
1t was a long time yet until darkness.
He yet might make the trail-end. He
gave no thought to fatigue. In the
first place, he had stood up remark
ably well under the days tramp for
no other reason than that he had al
ways made a point of keeping in the
best of physical condition. Besides,
there was something more potent than
mere physical strength to sustain
him now. 1t was the realization of
the nearing end of the trail-a knowl-
edge of tremendous revelations that
woul come to him in a few hours
more.
Already great truths were taking
shape in his brain he only needed a
single sentence of explanation to con-
meet them all together. He began
to feel n growing excitement and i'm
patience.
1t was quite dark now, and he
could barely see the trail. For the
first tine he began to despair, feeling
that another night of oyerpowerlng
Impotence Il be spent before he
could reach Trails End. The stars
began to push through the darkening
sky. Then, fainter than the CLEAN of
a freely, he saw the faint light Of a
far distant camp fire.
His heart bounded. He knew what
was there. 1t was the end of the
trail at last. And it guided him the
rest of the way. When he reached
the top of a little rise IL the trail, the
whole scene was laid out in mystery
DPlOW HlLl.
The fire had been built at the door
of a mountain house-a log structure
of perhaps four rooms. The freight
played in its open doorway. Some
thing beside 1t caught his attention,
and instinctively he followed 1t with
his eyes until 1t ended in an incred-
ible region of the stars. II was a
great pine tree, the largest he had
ever seen-seemingly q great sentinel
Eel all the land.
But the sudden awe that came oyer
him at the sight of 1t was cut short
by the sight of a girls figure in the
freight. He had an instant's sense
that he had come to the wilderness
heart at last, that this tall tree was
ITS symbol, that If he could under
stand the eternal watch that 1t kept
over this mountain world, he would
have an understanding of all things
but all these thoughts were submerged
in the realization that he had come
back to Linda at last.
He had known how the mountains
would seem. All that he had behelt
today was just the recurrence o.
things beheld long ago. Nothing hat
seemed different from what he haS
expected; rather he had a sense tha
n lost world n been returned to him
II was almost as IL he had neve
teen away. But the girl In the fire