The only thing that could save him was exercise. The healthful, reviving glow must come from within, and that had to be generated by action. He recalled the words of his father when the two were caught in a drenching rainstorm while on a hunt deep in the forest. “Our clothes and shoes are wet through and through; no fire we can start in the woods will dry them or make us comfortable. When your shoes are soaked don’t take them off even in the house, but walk, walk, walk. Soon your chilled feet will become warm, and the man who dries his stockings and shoes upon him will never catch cold therefrom.” It was the best of advice, and Alden never forgot it. He could hold the general direction, and the few miles between him and the station were but a brief walk for which in ordinary circumstances he would care nothing. Before leaving the stream he did another sensible thing. He studied the myriads of stars in the sky and fixed upon one of the first magnitude. In the crystalline air, it gleamed like the sun it really was. He thought it was Venus, but whether right or wrong, he knew the location of the planet and he determined to make it his compass. Without such a guidance he would inevitably drift from his course, follow a circle and come back to his starting point, or never get anywhere except to the place he shouldn’t go. It seemed strange to Alden that he saw no emigrant train plodding westward. With the hundreds dotting the country all the way from the Missouri to Salt Lake City, it would seem that he ought to be in sight of one or more all the time, but he had not observed any since parting from his own friends. One welcome fact was apparent: that part of the trail over which he was walking was more favorable than the miles already traversed. The ground was comparatively level, though the piles of rocks, an occasional ridge (none very high), and the growth of willows continued at intervals. By making his detours as brief as possible, he steadily gained ground. When he started he could not prevent his teeth from sounding like the music made by “bones” at a minstrel entertainment. He shivered and felt wretched, with the soggy leathern pouches flapping his neck, like a grotesque tippet; but ere long his incisors stopped their music, and the chills shook no more. Then a most glowing warmth permeated through his body. Even the numb feet felt as if he were toasting them in front of a fire. Clearly he had done the only sensible thing to do. “What’s become of Venus?” he abruptly exclaimed, stopping short when he had gone something like a mile; “she’s played the sneak act. That beats me!” He located the beautiful orb well to his left instead of in front. He knew the explanation. He had started on the tramp of a big circle which he assuredly would have followed, but for the care he used.