Nowhere, perhaps, except adrift in mid-ocean, is the sense of loneliness more appalling than to be lost in a labyrinthine forest of the mighty north.  Even upon the ocean there is always the chance of being picked up by a passing vessel.  But lost in the wilderness! hidden from view, what hope can the stoutest heart entertain of rescue?  Here a man is but a thing of naught, an insect creeping upon the ground, a mere speck, the veritable plaything of chance.

Reynolds, however, was well hardened to desperate situations.  Often in France he had been alone in “No Man’s Land,” with death close at hand.  He had never flinched then, and he was determined that he would not do so now.

“I told Harmon that I like adventure and desperate undertakings,” he mused.  “I have certainly enough here to satisfy me for a while.  But it can’t be helped, and so I must make the best of it.  Rest is what I need at present, and I am not going to worry about to-morrow.  ’One thing at a time’ has been my motto, and I guess it’s a good one.”

He awoke early the next morning, though the sun was up ahead of him.  He sprang to his feet and peered around.  But nothing could he see, except trees on every side.

“I must get out of this,” he muttered, “and strike for the high hills.  Perhaps there I may be able to get my proper bearings.  I must find a breakfast somewhere, but with my scanty supply of ammunition, it is necessary to be careful.”

Picking up his rifle, he started forth, and for several hours moved steadily onward.  Through a break in the forest he had caught sight of a high hill, and toward this he laboriously made his way.  He had to descend first into a deep valley, where a large wild meadow offered an inviting feeding-ground for moose.  But not a sign of life could he see, and greatly disappointed he was forced to begin the hard climb up the opposite side of the hill.

About the middle of the afternoon he succeeded in shooting a rabbit, which he at once skinned and broiled over a small fire.  He was weak from hunger and hard, anxious travelling, so this food gave him much refreshment.  He ate sparingly, nevertheless, knowing that he might not be able to procure anything more for supper.  With only two cartridges left, his outlook was far from encouraging.

When the summit of the hill was at length reached, he climbed a large fir tree from which he was enabled to obtain an excellent view of the surrounding country.  Far off rose great snow-capped mountain peaks, over which fleecy clouds were lazily drifting.  A vast sea of forest stretched on every side, broken here and there by placid, shimmering lakes.  But which was the one near the camp where Frontier Samson was no doubt anxiously awaiting the wanderer’s return?  That was the question which agitated Reynolds’ mind.  No sign of human life could he behold, and he wondered in which direction Big Draw mining camp lay.  So completely had he lost his bearings