Nor did he feel hungry, though now and then he clawed up and sucked a handful of snow, but he remembered that he was lying in the smoke when the bush grew dimmer and the red blaze more brilliant as darkness crept down.

Presently he fancied that something broke through the monotone of the river, and after listening to it vacantly groped for the rifle.

He clutched it, and raising himself a trifle with difficulty, blinked at the darkness that hemmed in the fire until footsteps came out of it.

They were not furtive, but apparently those of somebody coming straight towards the light in haste.

Alton smiled curiously, and wriggled until he was out of the strongest light, and found support for the barrel of the rifle.