flint and steel struck a flash of fire.

[Pg 8]

At first, the flame flickered tamely; then, suddenly, it burst into a glory of light and warmth. St. Arnaud advanced, still leading the poor horses, who gazed at the flames with an intelligent joy, almost human.

By that time it was so black overhead and so white underfoot, and the swirling snow was so whipped about by the furious north wind, that it seemed as if the two men and the two shivering horses were alone in a universe of cold and snow and blackness. The young soldier first gave the [Pg 9]horses the feed they had carried, and melting some snow in a tin pan he carried in his knapsack, gave them to drink. Then, washing out the pan, he produced some bacon and cheese and black bread. St. Arnaud showed the first sign of interest so far, by handing out his canteen, of which one whiff caused the young soldier’s wide mouth to come open with a grin, that showed the whitest teeth imaginable. And then, huddling under their cloaks, officer and soldier shared their first meal together. That day month St. Arnaud had been entertained by a countess in one of the finest houses in Vienna, and the young soldier had fared sumptuously in the kitchen with the maids; but to-night they were supping together, and only too glad to sup at all. At last, all the bacon and cheese being devoured, St. Arnaud’s spirit seemed to rouse from its torpor. He looked at the soldier attentively and asked:

[Pg 9]

“What is your name?”

“Ameeltone,” was the response.

St. Arnaud’s French ear did not detect the strange pronunciation of the name, yet he could not quite make it out.

“Can you spell it?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. H-a-m-i-l-t-o-n—Ameeltone.”

[Pg 10]

[Pg 10]

“But that is English.”

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