ther attack, he might have at least
one fair shot at the Priest. Whether the man was the girl's father or
not (and he privately doubted the story) he felt that this was the
only thing which would ever take from his mouth the taste of rope.

But he was disappointed. The morning broke fair and peaceful with, so
far as they could see, the birds and squirrels the only occupants of
this forest besides themselves. In fact, the next three days save for
the strain of being constantly alert were a sort of idyl for Wilson
and Jo. They had little difficulty in shooting sufficient food for
their needs, and water was plentiful. The trail led through a fair
land gay, at this time of year, with many flowers.

The girl, to be sure, sobbed at first a good deal in the dark but the
two men knew nothing of this. Soon, after the first acute pain of the
personal loss, she was able to reason a little with herself. It seemed
to her then, remembering how much a child he was when with her and how
strong and powerful he looked as he stepped into the woods, that
perhaps, after all, he would be happier with his many children than
with her. Then always there was the opportunity of coming back to
him,--coming under better auspices and with better opportunities for
really bringing him to his own. It was this last thought that finally
brought her real consolation.

"Perhaps," she said to Wilson, hesitating a trifle in fear that he
might not approve of the suggestion, "perhaps some day we can come
back here to him, David."

"I had thought of it, dear. He saved our lives; if he had remained,
not one of us would have got out of here. That in itself is enough to
make us everlastingly beholden to him. But--" he paused, "I think,
dear heart, that it is kinder to let him remain even among heathen
people a strong man with power, than to bring him back, a child, to
die."

"He chose for himself, David."

"Yes--and was able to realize and be glad that he had been given
another chance to do for his daughter."

The girl thought a moment. Then her face brightened.

"That--that alone makes the trip worth while."

"That--and this," he answered, drawing her to his side.

"Yes," she whispered, "and in a way he gave me you--he gave me you."

CHAPTER XXVIII

_A Dash for Port_

The Queen of Carlina, after a restless night, rose one fair morning
early in October and dressed herself long before the appearance of her
maids. There had been much to dist