" he exclaimed. "I have
been wondering how I could have you alone for a few minutes, and tell you
what is on my mind before I see MacDonald again to-night. I'm afraid you
will be displeased with me, Joanne. I hardly know how to begin. But--I've
got to."

A moment's uneasiness came into her eyes as she saw how seriously he was
speaking.

"You don't mean, John--there's more about Quade--and Culver Rann?"

"No, no--nothing like that," he laughed, as though amused at the absurdity
of her question. "Old Donald tells me they have skipped the country,
Joanne. It's not that. It's you I'm thinking of, and what you may think of
me a minute from now. Joanne, I've given my word to old Donald. He has
lived in my promise. I've got to keep that promise--I must go into the
North with him."

She had drawn one of his hands into her lap and was fondling it with her
own soft palm and fingers.

"Of course, you must, John. I love old Donald."

"And I must go--soon," he added.

"It is only fair to him that you should," she agreed.

"He--he is determined we shall go in the morning," he finished, keeping his
eyes from her.

For a moment Joanne did not answer. Her fingers interweaved with his, her
warm little palm stroked the rough back of his hand. Then she said, very
softly:

"And why do you think that will displease me, John, dear? I will be ready!"

"You!"

Her eyes were on him, full, and dark, and glowing, and in them were both
love and laughter.

"You dear silly John!" she laughed. "Why don't you come right out and tell
me to stay at home, instead of--of--'beating 'round the bush'--as Peggy
Blackton says? Only you don't know what a terrible little person you've
got, John. You really don't. So you needn't say any more. We'll start in
the morning--and I am going with you!"

In a flash John Aldous saw his whole scheme shaking on its foundation.

"It's impossible--utterly impossible!" he gasped.

"And why utterly?" she asked, bending her head so that her soft hair
touched his face and lips. "John, have you already forgotten what we said
in that terrible cavern--what we told ourselves we would have done if we
had lived? We were going adventuring, weren't we? And we are not dead--but
alive. And this will be a glorious trip! Why, John, don't you see, don't
you understand? It will be our honeymoon trip!"

"It will be a long, rough journey," he argued. "It will be hard--hard for a
woman."

With a little laugh, Joanne sprang