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IT was nearing the close of a short winter’s day,—the day before Christmas. Thickly fell the snow, fiercely keen blew the northern wind, heaping the drifts into crannies and gullies, and then whirling them far and wide. The fir-trees were all behung with wreaths of sheeted white, that the next blast flung abroad in scattered showers. The sky lowered above all, gray, cheerless, and hopeless, as a man—setting his teeth hard, and facing the inclemency as he best might—cast his eyes up toward the heavens, and then looked around him, with an air that bespoke his having lost his way amid the solitudes of the pine forest. He might have been a denizen of the place, for the coarseness and even squalor of his clothing. The rough tunic and cloak of sheepskin, the bearhide gloves, and wolfskin cap befitted the meanest serf. But for all his peasant garb, it was clear he was a stranger in this part of the country. With one more perplexed look about him, he suddenly shouted aloud. The sound seemed dulled and deadened by the damp, frozen air and the curtained canopy of overhanging trees. His voice seemed shut in, like himself, within the confines of this dreary wood prison. Yet once again he shouted,—once again sent forth an appealing cry for aid,—if it might be that human aid was near. And then—amid the gloom and silence—there came an answering sound,—a cry high-pitched, but dulled by distance and by seeming lack of power in the shouter. The man turned his steps in the direction of the response he had heard, calling loudly. It was repeated, and evidently drew nearer. Just then he emerged from among the thickest of the trees, into a more open space, a sort of pathway leading through the forest. Along this track he could now see, coming toward him, a small, dark figure, muffled in fur. It looked like a black bundle, more than a human being. The head was enveloped in a dark sheepskin cap, that fitted so closely around the face as to show only eyes, nose, and mouth. The body was wrapped in a cloak, and the lower limbs were encased in thick leggings and boots. Except that the head and shoulders were plentifully sprinkled with snow, and the small patch of face looked bright and rosy, the whole seemed a moving ball, of coarse, dark, furry stuff.