Once
there was a flight of small birds across the heavens, and he
watched them vaguely, but apparently he took no interest. Toward
night he stood up in his recess and flexed and tuned his muscles
for a long time, driving out any stiffness that might come
through long lack of motion. Then he ate and lay down, but he
did not yet sleep.
The night was clear, and he looked away toward the point where he
knew "The Alcove" lay. A good moon was now shining, and stars by
the score were springing out. Suddenly at a point on that far
shore a spark of red light appeared and twinkled. Most persons
would have taken it for some low star, but Henry knew better. It
was fire put there by human hand for a purpose, doubtless a
signal, and as he looked a second spark appeared by the first,
then a third, then a fourth. He uttered a great sigh of
pleasure. It was his four friends signaling to him somewhere in
the vast unknown that they were alive and well, and beckoning him
to come. The lights burned for fifteen or twenty minutes, and
then all went out together. Henry turned over on his side and
fell sound asleep. In the morning he put on his snowshoes and
started.
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