Cragg's Ridge
even when he knew the Law was at his heels. The steadiness of their
flight had thinned him, and a graver look had settled in his face. But
in his clear eyes was still the love of life--a thing even stronger than
the grief which was eating at his heart as their trail reached steadily
toward the Barren Lands.

In the sunset glow of this late afternoon Peter's watchful eyes saw his
master draw forth their treasure.

It was something he had come to look for, and expect--once, twice, and
sometimes half a dozen times between the rising and the setting of the
sun. And at night, when they paused in their flight for the day, Jolly
Roger never failed to do what he was doing now. Peter drew nearer to
where his master was sitting with his back to the big rock, and his eyes
glistened. Always he caught the sweet, illusive perfume of the girl when
Jolly Roger drew out their preciously guarded package. He unwrapped it
gently now, and in a moment held in his hands the tress of Nada's hair,
the last of her they would ever possess or see. And Peter wondered again
why they did not go back to where they had left the rest of the girl.
Many times, seeing his restlessness and his yearning, Jolly Roger had
tried to make him understand. And Peter tried to comprehend. But always
in his dreams he was with the girl he loved, following her, playing with
her, fighting for her, hearing her voice--feeling the touch of her hand.
In his dog soul he wanted her, just as Jolly Roger wanted her with all
the yearning and heartbreak of the man. Yet always when he awoke from
his dreams they went on again--not south--but north. To Peter this was
hopeless mystery, and he possessed no power of reason to solve it. Nor
could he speak in words the message which he carried in his heart--that
last crying agony of the girl when she had sent him out on the trail of
Roger McKay, entreating him to bring back the man she loved and would
always love in spite of all the broken and unbroken laws in the world.

That night, as they lay beside the Burntwood, Peter heard his master
crying out Nada's name in his sleep.

And the next dawn they went on--still farther north.

In these days and weeks, with the hot inundation of the wilderness about
him, McKay fought doggedly against the forces which were struggling
to break down the first law of his creed. The law might catch him,
and probably would, and when it caught him the law might hang him--and
probably would.