A Winter Night

A Winter Night By Claude T. Barnes

One of the most inspiring sights of winter is the clear sky of night, after a day of purifying snow. Its transparency is at once fathomless and incomprehensible; and in it the ordinary opalescence becomes a dull violaceous blue, a blue solemn and infinite. The high mounds of clouds possess a radiant, incomparable whiteness; the stars stud the heavens with an argentine glow, and the moon, ordinarily aureate, gleams like a ball of phosphorescent silver. All the former smoke, soot and atmospheric dirt lie beneath the earth's covering of snow, as if a celestial hand had cleansed the heavens of an unwelcome defilement. It was just such a night when Sterling Scott stepped out upon the porch of his home, filled his lungs with the bracing air, and pondered over the rare beauty of the scene. Before him rose the Wasatch mountains, white, cold and clear, almost inviting in their weird loveliness. Nature in all her moods was to Scott a constant allurement; for each Saturday afternoon it was his custom to trudge into the mountains, confident always in his knowledge of woodcraft to avoid such dangers as sorely try the ordinary venturer. Sleeping alone in the woods was to him a mere incident; and seldom had his sweet slumbers been disturbed. Ordinarily, however, he sought the woods in ample time to make a comfortable encampment before night fall; and now, though an exceptionally busy week had made him late, the charm of the wilds was whispering to him and he must go. As his den was filled with guns, revolvers, hunting suits, chamois coats, boots, leather bags, and paraphernalia of pleasing variety, he in a few minutes accoutered himself with everything he needed, including a snug, waterproof sleeping bag, a rifle of 32-20 calibre, and a canvas sack of provisions. Meanwhile his dog Tip, a pointer of excellent blood, danced about the room with unmistakable delight, as he always did the moment his master picked up a gun; and into the cold, clear night the two companions ventured forth. As Sterling trudged over the deep snow of the foothills he rested occasionally, and looked back upon the many scintillating lights of the city, wondering if in all those homes of warmth and ease there could be one so imbued with the spirit and freedom of the wilds that he would venture into the mountains alone on a night like this. Latent in every true man's breast is the soul of the Indian, awaiting the call of the woods, longing to meet and

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overcome the dangers that gave zest to the life of primitive man. Knowing that snow lay too deep in the canyon for easy travel, Sterling followed a trail leading up a wind-swept ridge where only in intermittent gullies he was constrained to wallow through. The lights of the city sank behind him, and each step took him towards vistas of ever increasing lights and shadows: indeed, he sometimes studied the effect of the moon's soft gleam on the glittering snow with a feeling of awe at the solemnity of undisturbed nature. It awakened within him slumbering thoughts of the Infinite; for few things have the power of a lonely mountain to draw one near to the great Unseen Power. On a distant ridge a coyote jarbled its weird howl; but save for this and the forlorn hoot of a sheltered owl, no sounds floated through the crisp night air except the hard breathing of Sterling and his faithful dog. Finally he walked beside a stalwart pine, which rose from the depths of a dark, precipitous gulch to the level of the ridge trail; then as he circled the north side of a steep peak he suddenly came upon the sad evergreen grove that he had from the start chosen as a camping cite. Moreover, the snow on the northern slopes was now so deep that further progress would be altogether too laborious. Selecting a fine, big, blue spruce tree he was pleased to find a practically dry bed of old pine cones beneath its thick overhanging lower branches; so in this dense cover he lay his sleeping bag; and before he had time to feel too keenly the cold, removed his boots and crept snugly inside. He took time to spread his hunting coat over the dog lying beside him and then pulling down the head flap was soon enjoying that sweet meditation that always presages the calmest slumber. It must have been an hour or more before he was suddenly awakened by a pitiful whine from his dog, Tip. The poor animal shook with fear, growled nervously and then whined again, all the while endeavoring to creep as close to his master as possible. Sterling clutched his gun, peered out into the gloom and could neither see nor hear anything to excite his suspicion. He patted the dog's back in the belief that the animal might be suffering from cold, but its hair stood on end, its body was warm and it was clearly agitated solely by fright. For several minutes he sat gazing at the darkish clearing before him, trying to discover some lurking, dingy form 'midst the solemn, gloomy pines; but if any animal was there it was as motionless and undiscernible as a spruce bough. Finally he snuggled Tip very close, thus apparently allaying his fears, and in an alert state of mind lay down, dozed and again slept. Soon, however, he was awakened as before, though this time his dog was unmistakably filled with terror at something. It

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was staring into the sombrous clearing, whining, shaking and trying to back beneath its master. Sterling looked intently with gun in hand ready for instant action. Nothing happened save the continued disquietude of the dog, which acted as if glaring at some serpent-haired gorgon. In fact the mysterious cause of the dog's alarm was giving Sterling himself some concern, for nothing is so dreadful as the indiscernible danger. Finally, beside a distant balsam two luminous, tiny balls appeared, and for a second remained glowing as if made of phos- phorous. Instantly Sterling raised his gun to fire; but just as quickly the balls disappeared and there was a rustle among the evergreens. The dog whined piteously. Now, no one can anticipate with absolute accuracy what any particular animal will do under given circumstances: animals vary as do men; and while ordinarily they act in a certain manner, exceptions sooner or later appear. Thus the mysterious prowler, Sterling thought, might be a mountain lion driven by hunger to attempt the life of the dog; or even a wolverine bent on some form of ingenious deviltry. Bears were, of course, asleep. Whatever it was it had a singular ability to excite terror in the dog, and the distance between its gleaming eyes indicated it to be no small animal. As Sterling thus meditated he began to feel chilly; so with much difficulty he started a small fire with the resinous underbranches of the evergreens. It burned indifferently, hence it was only with considerable arm-exercise that Sterling could bear the vigil. After what seemed hours, the dog again manifested every sign of distress. Sterling watched closely, keeping his gun half raised. At last the two glowing balls again appeared; so he slowly, deliberately took aim and fired. Something rushed through the evergreens and then silence again prevailed. At once Tip appeared relieved, as his master could feel the wa gg in g tail. The dog sprang out a few feet into the clearing and barked just as a timid dachshund might bravely bark through a fence at a bull terrier. Taking this mark of confidence as a sure indication that the weird animal had departed, Sterling again went to bed. In the morning he was astonished to find the unmistakable footprints of a wolf. They proved that it had skulked behind the balsams, waited first in one place then in another, but always beneath or behind the evergreens. Thus the terror of the dog was explained; for even numbers of dogs cannot ordinarily be prevailed upon to follow a wolf, which is capable of either whipping or killing them with marvelous rapidity. The heavy snows, the pangs of hunger, had thus combined to make the wolf the exception to its slinking race.