burden
of suggestive shape, Carter came out and took his way to the dense
underbrush behind the cabin. He returned to the hut for a spade and pick
and went back to the underbrush. His absence seemed interminable. Then,
with blistered hands, he stepped out of the thicket at her side.

"What was it? What kept you so long?" she asked, startled by his sudden
appearance and petulant with exhaustion.

"Don't ask me, sweet," he begged, "but come and rest for an hour or so.
I'll be the sentry at your gate."

"But the Cossacks may come," she hesitated.

"Lightning never strikes twice in the same place," he assured with a
grim meaning for himself in the words. "Come, the coast is clear."

"But that you carried," she held back as the doubt arose, for she had
seen.

"Without benefit of clergy, poor fellow," he replied seeing that it was
too late to deceive her. "I hoped you wouldn't notice."

Gently he urged her to the hut. Freshening the pallet with twigs and
leaves, he spread the double blanket they had brought upon the bed and
then withdrew to mount guard while she might snatch some rest.

With his back against the wall, seated on a rude bench outside the
cabin, he watched the heavy-eyed sun arise and yawn. Once from the cabin
a sigh floated.

"Rest well, sweetheart," he called. "Our flight has just commenced."

XXV

THEY MEET JOSEF

He dared not sleep. Thousands of aching demons in his weary limbs
promised him surcease if he would. Every stir in nature, each drowsy
twitter of the birds, coaxed him to relax his watchfulness, but he
resisted. Time seemed a paralytic as Carter waited the passing of the
day. A score of times his head bent forward in weariness. He could feel
pain pass from him like a sigh, only to be called back as in reaction he
would jerk his head up to wakefulness.

Slumber reigned indoors. As the hours dragged on, it seemed to the
watchful lover that something was surely wrong. He had heard no sound,
no stir, no sigh, for an age of patience. Half ashamed of his own
boldness, he tiptoed in to where she lay. Her face was pale with
languor; no breath appeared to stir her breast. With a great leap his
mind went back, fearing, to that scene by the roadside as she lay
fainting in his arms. He reached out and touched her wrist. Again he
gave thanks that, beneath his finger, life flowed serenely in its
course.

He turned and went back to his seat on the bench. He counted time now
by the throbb