CHAPTER XIX
THE SAFE RETURN
The surface of the snow had frozen again in the night, and Henry
found good footing for his shoes. For a while he leaned most on
the right ankle, but, as his left developed no signs of soreness,
he used them equally, and sped forward, his spirits rising at
every step. The air was cold, and there was but little breeze,
but his own motion made a wind that whipped his face. The
hollows were mostly gone from his cheeks, and his eyes no longer
had the fierce, questing look of the famishing wild animal in
search of prey. A fine red color was suffused through the brown
of his face. He had chosen his course with due precaution. The
broad surface, smooth, white, and glittering, tempted, but he put
the temptation away. He did not wish to run any chance whatever
of another Iroquois pursuit, and he kept in the forest that ran
down close to the water's edge. It was tougher traveling there,
but he persisted.
But all thought of weariness and trouble was lost in his glorious
freedom. With his crippled ankle he had been really like a
prisoner in his cell, with a ball and chain to his foot. Now he
flew along, while the cold wind whipped his blood, and felt what
a delight it was merely to live.
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