s met steadily.

"If you are, Johnny," went on MacDonald in a low voice, "I'd take her with
me. An' if you ain't, I'd leave these mount'ins to-night an' never look in
her sweet face again as long as I lived."

"You'd take her along?" demanded Aldous eagerly.

"I would. I've been thinkin' it over to-night. An' something seemed to tell
me we mustn't dare leave her here alone. There's just two things to do,
Johnny. You've got to stay with her an' let me go on alone or--you've got
to take her."

Slowly Aldous shook his head. He looked at his watch. It was a little after
ten.

"If I could make myself believe that she would not be safe here--I would
take her," he said. "But I can't quite make up my mind to that, Mac. She
will be in good hands with the Blacktons. I will warn Paul. Joanne is
determined to go, and I know she will think it pretty indecent to be told
emphatically that she can't go. But I've got to do it. I can't see----"

A break in the stillness of the night stopped him with the suddenness of a
bullet in his brain. It was a scream--a woman's scream, and there followed
it shriek after shriek, until the black forest trembled with the fear and
agony of the cries, and John Aldous stood as if suddenly stripped of the
power to move or act. Donald MacDonald roused him to life. With a roar in
his beard, he sprang forth into the darkness. And Aldous followed, a hot
sweat of fear in his blood where a moment before had been only a chill of
wonder and horror. For in Donald's savage beastlike cry he had caught
Joanne's name, and an answering cry broke from his own lips as he followed
the great gaunt form that was tearing with the madness of a wounded bear
ahead of him through the night.

CHAPTER XXII

Not until they had rushed up out of the coulee and had reached the pathlike
trail did the screaming cease. For barely an instant MacDonald paused, and
then ran on with a speed that taxed Aldous to keep up. When they came to
the little open amphitheatre in the forest MacDonald halted again. Their
hearts were thumping like hammers, and the old mountaineer's voice came
husky and choking when he spoke.

"It wasn't far--from here!" he panted.

Scarcely had he uttered the words when he sped on again. Three minutes
later they came to where the trail crossed the edge of a small
rock-cluttered meadow, and with a sudden spurt Aldous darted ahead of
MacDonald into this opening, where he saw two figures in the moonlight.