n the frozen snow.

Suddenly Velasco lifted his head from the breast of Kaya. He steadied
himself and sat upright in the seat. The wound was bound about by the
red scarf and his face looked white in the faint moon-beams. There was
blood on his jacket and the folds of his vest, and the scarf was
spotted with crimson blotches.

He stared straight ahead at the tossing manes of the horses, their
galloping bodies, three abreast, plunging and straining in the harness;
the reins knotted to the dash-board; the dark, winding road bordered by
snow-drifts; the lights in the distance looming nearer, and the bulk of
the station. His eyes were shining under the bandage, wide-open
beneath the brows.

Kaya drew away from him slowly, burying herself in the corner of the
sleigh, drawing the buffalo robe close about her and trembling. The
cold was bitter.

He drank in the icy air in long breaths, and it seemed to give him
strength, to clear the fumes of the brain. He was like one who has
been drowning and is coming to life again gradually. Suddenly he
turned and they faced one another. The hoofs rang against the ice,
pounding forward; the sleigh was lurching, and the runners slipped and
slid in the snow.

"Kaya!"

"Velasco."

He put his arms out and they closed around her; he drew her nearer and
nearer with all the strength in his body, and she yielded slowly,
resisting and weak. She yielded until his lips were on hers, and then
she flung out her arms with a little cry and they clung together,
closely, silently.

The horses galloped on and the sleigh lurched faster--and faster.

CHAPTER XIII

The night train steamed swiftly through the darkness, the cars swaying
from side to side of the track, and the couplings clanging and jolting.
It was warm inside the compartments and the air made a thick steam on
the windows, hiding the snowfields and the station as the train rushed
thundering past. In one of the third-class compartments two gypsies
sat together with their heads close to the window, peering out.

"Half an hour now, Velasco."

"Twenty-two minutes, Kaya."

"Now, only twelve."

"Are the passports ready, Velasco?"

"They are here, little one. There is Virballen now in the distance;
can you see the roofs and the eagle floating? In another moment,
another second--!"

The two gypsies sat quiet, straining their eyes through the steam; then
the dark one rose suddenly and adjusted the strap of his knaps