e ought to kill Jed Hawkins before we go. It would be safer for her,"
he finished.

He went out, forgetting Peter, and climbed a rock-splintered path until
he stood on the knob of a mighty boulder, looking off into the northern
wilderness. Off there, a hundred, five hundred, a thousand miles--was
home. It was ALL his home, from Hudson's Bay to the Rockies, from the
Height of Land to the Arctic plains, and in it he had lived the thrill
of life according to his own peculiar code. He knew that he had loved
life as few had ever loved it. He had worshipped the sun and the moon
and the stars. The world had been a glorious place in which to live, in
spite of its ceaseless peril for him.

But there was nothing of cheer left in his heart now as he stood in the
blaze of the setting sun. Paradise had come to him for a little while,
and because of it he had lived a lie. He had not told Jed Hawkins'
foster-girl that he was an outlaw, and that he had come to the edge of
civilization because he thought it was the last place the Royal Mounted
would look for him. When he went to her this evening it would probably
be for the last time. He would tell her the truth. He would tell her
the police were after him from one end of the Canadian northland to the
other. And that same night, with Peter, he would hit the trail for
the Barren Lands, a thousand miles away. He was sure of himself
now--sure--even as the dark wall of the forest across the plain faded
out, and gave place to a pale, girlish face with eyes blue as flowers,
and brown curls filled with the lustre of the sun--a face that had taken
the place of mother, sister and God deep down in his soul. Yes, he was
sure of himself--even with that face rising lo give battle to his last
great test of honor. He was an outlaw, and the police wanted him, but--

Peter was troubled by the grimness that settled in his master's face.
They waited for dusk, and when deep shadows had gathered in the valley
McKay led the way out of the rock-pile.

An hour later they came cautiously through the darkness that lay between
the broken shoulders of Cragg's Ridge. There was a light in the cabin,
but Nada's window was dark. Peter crouched down under the warning
pressure of McKay's hand.

"I'll go on alone," he said. "You stay here."

It seemed a long time that he waited in the darkness. He could not
hear the low tap, tap, tap of his master's fingers against the glass
of Nada's darkened window. And Jolly Rog