But although neither combatant in this warfare is ever wholly annihilated, there is in every life a Waterloo.  There comes a struggle in which, if we are not victorious, we at least remain permanent master of the field.  This was the night of David’s Waterloo.  A true history of that final conflict in the soul of this hermit would not have disgraced the confessions of Saint Augustine!

He wrestled to keep his thoughts pure and his faith firm, until the sweat stood in beads on his forehead.  He felt that to yield so much as the fraction of an inch of ground in his battle against doubt and sin this night was to be lost!  And still the conflict went against him.

It turned upon another of those trivial incidents of which there had been a series in his life.  His attention was arrested by a sound in the woods which summoned his consciousness from the inner world of thought and feeling to the great external world of action and endeavor.  His huntsman’s ear detected its significance at once, and springing to the corner of the room he seized his rifle, threw open the cabin door and stood on the threshold.  A full moon shone on the snow and in that white and ghostly light his quick eye caught sight of a spectacle that made his pulses leap.  A fawn bounded out into the open field and headed for his cabin, attracted by the firelight gleaming through the window and door.  Behind her and snapping almost at her heels, came a howling pack of a half dozen wolves whose red, lolling tongues, white fangs and flaming eyes were distinctly visible from where he stood.  Coolly raising his rifle he aimed at the leader and pulled the trigger.  There was a quick flash, a sharp report, and the wolf leaped high in the air, plunged headlong, tumbled into the snow, and lay writhing in the pangs of death.

There was no time to load again, and there was no need, for the terrified fawn, impelled by the instinct of self-preservation, chose the lesser of two dangers and with a few wild bounds toward the cabin, flung herself through the wide-open door.

David had detected her purpose and stepped aside; and instantly she had entered closed and bolted the door upon the very muzzles of her pursuers.  They dashed themselves against it and whined with baffled rage, while the half-frantic deer crawled trembling to the side of her preserver, licked his hands and lay at his feet gasping for breath.

To some men an incident like this would have been an incident and nothing more; but souls like Corson’s perceive in every event and experience of life, elements which lie beneath the surface.