He was only twenty yards away from the refuge where the girls were concealed.
It was not long before Paul came.

He was quite alone, and suddenly appeared at the far end of the clearing, in very truth a mighty hunter, standing nearly seven feet on his snow-shoes.

One rifle he carried in his hand, another slung across his back.

It was like a silent scene on a stage.

The snow-white clearing, with long-drawn tracks across it where the snow-shoes had passed, the still trees, the brilliant sun, and the blue depths of the forest behind; while Paul, like the hero of some grim Arctic saga, a huge fur-clad Northern giant, stood alone in the desolation.
From his attitude it was apparent that he was listening.