The clouds, having finished their mobilization in the center of the heavens, soon spread to the horizon on every side.  Then a single great white flake dropped slowly and gracefully from the zenith, fell within the palisade, and melted before the eyes of Robert and Wilton.  But it was merely a herald of its fellows which, descending at first like skirmishers, soon thickened into companies, regiments, brigades, divisions and armies.  Then all the air was filled with the flakes, and they were so thick they could not see the forest.

“The first snow of the winter and a big one,” said Wilton, “and again I give thanks for our well furnished fort.  There may be greater fortresses in Europe, and of a certainty there are many more famous, but there is none finer to me than this with its’ stout log walls, its strong, broad roofs, and its abundance of supplies.  Once more, though, I’m sorry for your friend, Tayoga.  A runner may go fast over ice, if he’s extremely sure of foot and his moccasins are good, but I know of no way in which he can speed like the gull in its flight through deep snow.”

“Not through the snow, but he may be on it,” said Robert.

“And how on it, wise but cryptic young sir?”

“Snow shoes.”

“But he took none with him and had none to take.”

“Which proves nothing.  The Indians often hide in the forest articles they’ll need at some far day.  A canoe may be concealed in a thicket at the creek’s edge, a bow and arrows may be thrust away under a ledge, all awaiting the coming of their owner when he needs them most.”

“The chance seems too small to me, Lennox.  I can’t think a pair of snow shoes will rise out of the forest just when Tayoga wants ’em, walk up to him and say:  ‘Please strap us on your feet.’  I make concession freely that the Onondaga is a most wonderful fellow, but he can’t work miracles.  He does not hold such complete mastery over the wilderness that it will obey his lightest whisper.  I read fairy tales in my youth and they pleased me much, but alas! they were fairy tales!  The impossible doesn’t happen!”

“Who’s the great talker now?  Your words were flowing then like the trickling of water from a spout.  But you’re wrong, Will, about the impossible.  The impossible often happens.  Great spirits like Tayoga love the impossible.  It draws them on, it arouses their energy, they think it worth while.  I’ve seen Tayoga more than once since he started, as plainly as I see you, Will.  Now, I shut my eyes and I behold him once more.  He’s in the forest.  The snow is pouring down.  It lies a foot deep on the ground, the boughs bend with it, and sometimes they crack under it with a report like that of a rifle.  The tops of the bushes crowned with white bend their weight toward the ground, the panthers, the wolves, and the wildcats all lie snug in their dens.  It’s a dead world save for one figure.  Squarely in the center of it I see Tayoga, bent over a little, but flying straight forward at a speed that neither you nor I could match, Will.  His feet do not sink in the snow.  He skims upon it like a swallow through the air.  His feet are encased in something long and narrow.  He has on snow shoes and he goes like the wind!”