The Wendigo

g to the affair an entirely new aspect. The sound of that crisp "Hulloa, my boy! And what's up now?" and the grasp of that dry and vigorous hand introduced another standard of judgment. A

d at that a relief party must start at the earliest possible moment, and that Simpson, in order to guide it capably, must first have food and, above all, sleep. D

t countenance staring him in the face, he simply had not the courage to mention them. Thus, all the search party gathered, it would seem, was that Défago had suffered in the night an acute and inexplicable attack of mania, had imagined himself "c

; how he cried in his sleep; how he imagined an unusual scent about the camp; and had betrayed other symptoms of mental excitement. He also admitted the bewildering effect of "that extraordinary odor" upon himself, "pungent and acrid like the odor of lions." And by the time they were within an easy hour of Fifty Island Water he had let slip the further fact-a foolish avowal of his own hysterical condition, as he felt afterwards-that he had heard the vanished guide call "for help." He omitted the singular phrases used, for he sim

vited delusion. While praising his conduct, he managed at the same time to point out where, when, and how his mind had gone astray. He made his nephew think himself finer than he was by judicious praise, yet more foolish than he

appearance of the big tracks was obviously a defect of vision in your own eyes produced by excitement. The size and stretch of the tracks we shall prove when we come to them. But the hallucination of an audible voice, of course, is one of the commonest forms of delusion due to mental excitement-an excitement, my dear boy, perfectly excusable, and, let me add, wonderfully controlled by y

sychological formulae, made him slightly defiant. It was so easy to be wise in the explanation of an experience one has not personally witnessed. "A k

did not seem to you even worse." The dry words, Simpson knew, hover

pinned to a stake beside it-untouched. The cache, poorly contrived by inexperienced hands, however, had been discovered and ope

o by this time is 'bout as unsartain as the trade in crowns in t'other place." The presence of a divinity student was no barrier to his language a

othed and flattened by the pressure of his body, seemed to bring his presence near to them. Simpson, feeling vaguely as if his world were somehow at stake, went about explaining particulars in a hushed tone. He was mu

g in the direction where the guide had vanished that morning in the grey dawn. "

Cathcart exch

ed the other, speaking with something of the former terror in his vo

, an' all the rest of the wicked entertainment," cried

f producing illusions," added Dr. Cathcart under his b

t and Hank lost no time in beginning the search, but Simpson was too exhausted to accompany them. They would follow the blazed ma

had covered all signs, and though they had followed the blazed trees to the spot where Simpson had turned back, they had not discovered t

ithout much chance of success. The fresh snow destroyed their only hope, and they gathered round the fire for supper, a gloomy and desponden

ces against his finding camp again were overwhelming; the delirium that was upon him would also doubtless have increased, and it was quite likely he might do violence to himself and so hasten his cruel fate. Even while they talked, indeed, the end had probably come. On the suggestion of Hank, his old pal, however, they proposed to wait a little longer and devote the whole of the following day, from dawn to darkness, to the most systematic search they could devise. They would divide the territory between them. They discussed their plan in great detail. All that men could do they would do. And, meanwhile, they talked about the particular form in which the singular Panic of the Wilderness had made its attack upon the mind of the unfortunate guide.

ll story of his astonishing tale; he left out no details this time; he mentioned

, my dear fellow," insisted the doctor. "I mean, he had talked about it, and th

mentioned the beast. He, Simpson, knew nothing of the story, and, so far a

m-a fish jumping in the lake, a twig snapping in the bush, the dropping of occasional fragments of frozen snow from the branches overhead where the heat loosened them. His voice, too, changed a little in quality, becoming a shade less confident, lower also in tone. Fear, to put it plainly, hovered close about that little camp, and though all three would have been glad to speak of other