Ten minutes more and they were at the foot of the lofty crag called Eagle Rock, in a friendly recess of which they found welcome shelter from the furious wind. "Thank goodness!" ejaculated Harry, throwing himself wearily down upon a snow-bank, "we’ve got thus far anyway. How many miles more, Mr. Maynard?" "About ten, Harry," was the answer, given in quite a matter-of-fact tone. "Ten!" echoed Harry in dismay. "I hoped it would only be about five. I’ll never do it in the world." "Oh yes, you will, my boy!" replied Mr. Maynard. "I’ll help you you know." To their vast relief the snow now began to abate, and presently ceased falling altogether. "That’s something to be thankful for," said the superintendent. "Are you ready to start again?" "Go ahead," was the response. But no sooner had one danger passed than another presented itself. The light began to fail, for night was at hand. A ten-mile tramp on snow-shoes through a desolate forest was not much to be desired under any circumstances. To accomplish it in the dark, tired as they both felt already, was a feat the achieving of which seemed more than doubtful. Mr. Maynard had his misgivings, but he carefully concealed them from his companion, and even started whistling a lively march as he led the way along the faintly discernible road. Never will either of them ever forget that awful tramp. The night soon enfolded them, leaving only the scant light of the glimmering stars for guidance. Every step they took had to be carefully considered, lest they should stray from the track and be hopelessly lost. Again and again the silence through which they marched was broken by the blood-curdling cry of the lynx or the dismal howl of the wolf, seeking what they might devour. The superintendent’s rifle hung at his back, and Harry had a good revolver; but they prayed in their hearts that they might have no occasion to use them. Every little while they had to pause that the boy might take a brief rest. Then on they went again. Mile after mile of the dreary, toilsome way was slowly yet steadily overcome, each one adding to poor Harry’s weariness, until he felt as if he must give up the struggle and throw himself down in the snow to die. But Mr. Maynard cheered him up and helped him, and kept him going, knowing well that to give up really meant death. At last the exhausted boy sank down with a piteous wail,— "It’s no use, Mr. Maynard, I can’t take another step." "Oh yes, you can, Harry!" said the superintendent soothingly; "just take a little rest, and then you’ll be all right." While Harry rested he went on ahead a short distance, for it seemed to him that they could not be very far from the depot. Presently there came from him a glad hurrah, and running back he put his arm around his companion, and helped him to his feet, exclaiming joyfully,— "I can see a light, Harry. We’re safe now. It’s the depot."