"It's quickest and there must be some kind of a refuge below." With long, swift glides he reached the knob which had hidden Miriam's sled from view as she bore down on Anne the night of the coasting party.
The wolves were right behind him now, and unless something turned up he hardly dared think what would happen.
But Tom Gray had always possessed an indomitable belief that things would turn out all right.

It seemed absurd to him that he was to be food for wolves when he had still a long and delightful life before him.
Certainly he would not give up without a struggle.
Perhaps it was this fine confidence that his destiny was not yet completed that gave him the strength which now promised to save him.

As he fled down the hill he saw below an old oak tree whose first branches had been lopped off.

Exerting every atom of strength in him, just as he reached the bottom Tom gave a leap.

He caught the lowest limb with one hand, pulled himself up and calmly took his seat in the crotch of the tree.
He was just in time.