that he had no idea which was the right course to pursue.  Anyway, it was necessary to keep on the move, for to remain where he was meant certain death.  If he must die, he would die fighting, game to the very last.  Surely beyond some of those outstanding hills he could find a river, which would bear him out of that wilderness maze.  A high crest to the left looked promising, and toward this he at once started.

He slept that night in a valley by a little brook which gurgled down to a lake beyond.  The remains of the rabbit served him for supper, and where was he to obtain his next meal?  He had startled several grouse during the day, and once he detected the plunging of a moose.  But nothing came within the range of his rifle except a few noisy squirrels, but upon these he did not dare to waste his two remaining cartridges.  In his extremity he would have welcomed the sight of a bear, and even a grizzly at that.  He could then afford to exhaust his ammunition, as the flesh of a bear would last him for many days.  But no bear had he met, although signs of them were at times abundant, especially in the valleys.

The next morning in a mood of desperation, he took a long shot at a flying grouse and missed it.  One cartridge now remained, and it was absolutely necessary to reserve that for something large.  Down the valley lay a big wide meadow, and here he believed he might find a moose feeding.  It was worth trying, at any rate.  Walking warily along the edge of the forest, he was at length rewarded by seeing a fine animal some distance off on the opposite side of the meadow.  Reynolds instantly stopped, and his hands trembled through the excitement of his discovery.  If he could get a little closer he felt sure that the moose would be his.  But just as he took a few steps forward, the animal lifted its great head and sniffed the air.  There was not a second to lose, so bringing the rifle to his shoulder, he took a quick aim and fired.  With a startled snort, the moose reared, staggered, and then with tremendous leaps bounded across the twenty or thirty yards of intervening meadow and vanished in the forest.  Reynolds could hear it crashing its way among the trees as he hurried out into the open.  The sounds grew fainter and fainter, and finally ceased.  The animal had made good its escape, although evidently wounded.

Reynolds’ previous discouragement was nothing to what he experienced now.  He moved mechanically toward the spot where the moose had been grazing.  Why he did so he could not tell.  He reached the border of the forest, and flung himself down upon the grass.  With his last cartridge gone, what chance had he of life?  He had been in many a dire strait in the past, but nothing to equal this.  He was face to face with death, more surely and in a far more terrible form than he had ever encountered in far off France.

“This is certainly ‘No Man’s Land,’” he muttered.  “I do not believe a human being ever trod this region before and it is not likely that anyone will come here during the next one hundred years.  And to think that I missed that shot when my life depended upon it!  It must be my nerves.”