he said. "But I think
God made you for a spar for drowning men to cling to."

She smiled with him in spite of the tears. "May the spar never fail
you!" she said.

"I am not afraid," he answered very steadily.

CHAPTER IX

THE BOON

It was long before Anne slept that night, but yet though restless she was
not wholly miserable. Neither was she perplexed. Her duty lay before her
clearly defined, and she meant to fulfil it. Those few words with Lucas
Errol had decided her beyond all hesitancy, so completely was she in
sympathy with this strong friend of hers. Perhaps her wavering had only
been the result of a moment's weakness, following upon sudden strain. But
the strain had slackened, and the weakness was over. She knew that even
Nap had not the power to move her now. With the memory of his firm
hand-grip came the conviction that he would not seek to do so. Like
herself he had been momentarily dismayed it might be, but he had taken
his place among her friends, not even asking to be foremost, and
remembering this, she resolutely expelled any lingering doubt of him. Had
she not already proved that she had but to trust him to find him
trustworthy? What tangible reason had he given her for withdrawing her
trust even for a moment? She reproached herself for it, and determined
that she would never doubt him again.

But yet sleep was long in coming to her. Once when it seemed near, the
hooting of an owl near the open window drove it away; and once in the
vague twilight before the dawn she started awake to hear the sharp
thudding of a horse's hoofs galloping upon the turf not very far away.
That last set her heart a-beating, she could not have said wherefore,
save that it reminded her vaguely of a day in the hunting-field that had
ended for her in disaster.

She slept at last and dreamed--a wild and fearful dream. She dreamed that
she was on horseback, galloping, galloping, galloping, in headlong flight
from someone, she knew not whom, but it was someone of whom she was
unspeakably afraid. And ever behind her at break-neck speed, gaining
upon her, merciless as fate, galloped her pursuer. It was terrible, it
was agonising, yet, though in her heart she knew it to be a dream, she
could not wake. And then, all suddenly, the race was over. Someone drew
abreast of her. A sinewy hand gripped her bridle-rein. With a gasping cry
she turned to face her captor, and saw--a Red Indian! His tigerish eyes
gazed into hers. He w