But Allan!  What of him?  When he recovered from the effects of the shock, he found himself over head and ears in snow.  He had no idea where he was, but struggled and plunged in vain endeavors to extricate himself, until at last he broke into a space that was clear of snow, but dark as Erebus, damp and close.  Feeling about him he discovered over his head logs resting slantingly against the upper edge of a pit, and then he knew that he was in the cellar of the old house his father had built, and which had been burned down nine years before!  The cellar was full of snow, except at the corner roofed over by the fallen logs, and Allan, bursting through the snow into the empty corner, was as secure from the wolves as though seated by his father’s fireside.  It was not nearly as cold in there as outside, and he found a dry spot upon which he lay down to think.

He was in no danger of freezing to death, his food would keep him from starvation a week at least, and Allan concluded that, with the first glimpse of dawn, his father would be in search of him, and, following the tracks, find old Bob’s bones, and quickly rescue him from his predicament.  He reasoned wisely enough, but the elements were against him.  Before sunrise a furious storm of wind and snow had completely obliterated every trace of horse, rider and wolves.

At home, as the night wore on, the anxiety of the family had increased.  While they were watching the gathering storm, they heard the long, dismal howl of the wolves coming over the hill.  The chill of fear that they should never see the boy again settled down upon all their hearts, until the house was as dreary within as the winter waste and gloomy forest were without.

Meanwhile the brave youth was sound asleep, dreaming as peacefully as though snugly resting with his brother in his warm bed at home.  He slumbered on unconscious of the raging storm without, and did not awake until late the next forenoon.  It took him several seconds to realize where he was and how he came there, but gradually he remembered his ride for life, the falling of his horse, his struggle in the snow, and his breaking into the protected space where he lay.

The storm lasted all day and far into the succeeding night.  Allan ate slightly, quenched his thirst with a few drops of water obtained by melting snow in the palm of his hand, and began casting about for means to get out.  He soon found that to dig his way up through the mass of snow that filled the cellar was beyond his powers.  If he could have made a succession of footholds, the task would have been easy; but all his efforts only tended to fill his retreat, without bringing him nearer the air.  As soon as he saw this, he gave himself up to calmly waiting for help from without.

The second morning of his imprisonment broke clear and cheerful, and Mr. Devins set out to search for traces of his boy.  He visited the Inmans’ and learned the particulars of Allan’s stay and departure, then mournfully turned his face homeward, his heart filled with despair.  When he emerged from the forest into the clearing, he met the Indian who had visited him a few days before, and he told the red man of Allan’s loss.  The Indian stood a moment in deep thought, and then asked: