Their manner was so humble and adoring that he felt sorry for them.  They had begged his pardon in the same words that he had intended to beg God’s.  And then he was just—­the only just creature that God had created.  In his heart he knew that he had merited their revenge—­there was scarcely one of them at whom he had not hurled his rocks.  He came back walking in stately fashion till he stood fearlessly in the centre of them.  Looking up through the burdened branches at the calamity which he did not understand, he commanded, “Leave off.”

To his immense surprise, on the instant the snow ceased falling.  It settled gently like a tired bird into its nest.  The serenity of the stillness was unbroken.

“I am hungry,” he said.

The animals hurried to their stores of food and waited on him.

“I have not slept.”

The squirrels scraped fallen leaves into a bed, and the bear and the wolf stood guard.

When he awoke it was a brilliant winter’s morning.  The sun was charioteering in highest heaven.  The forest was white as though cotton-wool had blown through it.  As far as eye could search, everything glittered, sheathed in a film of glass.  Snow bulged from branches like pillows filled to bursting.  Icicles hung down like fantastic swords.  Down the colonnaded avenues trees cast their shadows in heavy bars; the spaces between them were golden splashes.

[Illustration:  The Man yawned.  “I am still tired.  Fetch the horse, that he may carry me back to my dwelling.”]

The Man yawned.  “I am still tired.  Fetch the horse that he may carry me back to my dwelling.”

He ordered the horse to be fetched because he had forgotten where his cave was.  It was clever of him.  He did it to keep the animals from knowing his ignorance.

The horse came galloping up obediently.  Clutching him by the mane, the Man bestrode him.  Off they started at a sharp trot, with the animals shouting and bounding beside them.  As they travelled, the Man could hardly keep from smiling at picturing what a fine fellow he was.  He made no attempt to restrain himself from giving orders.  All the time he kept urging the animals to shout louder.  He wanted the Woman to hear them, so that she might crawl to the entrance of the cave and be a witness of his triumphant home-coming.  It wasn’t good enough merely to picture himself as a fine fellow.  He was anxious to hear her say to him, “Oh, Man, what a fine fellow you are!” He’d forgotten completely the purpose of his errand—­that he’d set out through the world’s first snowstorm in search of God.

So at last they burst forth from the forest and reached the foot of the slippery ascent.  Because it was so slippery, the Man dismounted; the horse could carry him no further.  Having commanded the animals to go on shouting for at least half-an-hour, he left them and commenced to climb the steep and narrow path.  He had to go gingerly on his hands and knees.  There were places where he slipped back two steps for every one he advanced.  By snatching at rocks and bushes, he dragged himself slowly to the turning which brought him in sight of the entrance.  There, seated in the entrance to the cave, he saw ...