MARTIN saw the last of his party through a cloud of whirling flakes. He followed as fast as the lame and now nearly exhausted horse would allow him, but not a trace of them was again visible. Even the tracks of the animals were obliterated by the fast falling snow. He did not lose courage, however, although the trail itself grew fainter and fainter in the deepening twilight. But finally his steps grew more halting and doubtful; twice he barely saved himself from slipping over a rocky ledge. At last he paused in bewilderment. Shading his eyes with both hands he looked around. He could not see two rods before him. Which way should he go? Where had the little company disappeared? He hated to call and bring Miss Howard back to show him the way—or perhaps she would send Abner. At any rate he must have help as soon as possible, and lifting up his voice he shouted with all the strength of his lungs, then waited in vain for some reply. The old horse whinnied inquiringly and rubbed his cold nose against Martin’s shoulder. It brought the young fellow’s grievance to mind afresh. If his father had not refused to let Talitha ride Cain—a biddable young mule—although there would be no work for the animal until spring, he would not be in this plight; the whole party could have made much faster progress and perhaps have reached the Bradshaw place in spite of the storm. But there was no time for bitter reflection; he must keep moving. Evidently his companions were already beyond the sound of his voice—call as he might. In that partially sheltered place he could feel the air growing colder—a wind swept through the pines above his head and sent down light clouds of snow. Martin shivered helplessly, then in despair made a plunge forward, the sorrel stumbled after; both slipped—it was a misstep—and went down, down, the young fellow still clinging to the bridle with one hand while the other caught at bush and sapling to break his fall. Every moment he expected the horse would descend upon him. It was so close he could hear its frightened snorts as it crashed downward. Martin’s head grew dizzy, a weird light whirled before him; strange cries echoed in his ears, and he felt numb in a helpless fright. Then he suddenly stopped with a jolt and jar that opened his eyes. Still that glow, brighter than ever, was before them. “Lands!” shouted a voice, “be careful or that critter’ll tromp on you!” “Why, the poor boy, he must have slipped over the bank and the horse after him. It’s a miracle they were not killed!” Martin tried to speak, but he was too dazed to put the words together. “Abner, see if he’s hurt anywhere. I do hope there are no bones broken. We shouldn’t have let him get so far behind,” Miss Howard was reproaching herself severely.