nt _death_ to him.
Starvation would drive him to the river and destruction, before men
could ever come the long way to rescue him. But this was not her
concern. She was a forest girl and he her enemy: he must pay the price
for his own deeds.

She got to her feet, stalking with absolute silence. She must not waken
him now. Softly she pressed her unshod foot into the grass. He stirred
in his sleep; and she paused, scarcely breathing.

She looked toward him. Dimly she could see his face, tranquil in sleep
and gray in the soft light; and an instantaneous surge of remorse sped
through her. There was a sweetness, a hint of kindly boyishness in his
face now, so changed since she had left him beside the glowing coals.
Yet he was her deadly enemy; and she must not let her woman's heart cost
her her victory in its moment of fulfillment. She crept on down to the
water.

She could discern the black shadow of the canoe. One swift surge of her
shoulders, one leap, the splash of the stern in the water and the swift
stroke of the paddle, and she would be safe. She stepped nearer.

But at that instant a subdued note of warning froze her in her tracks.
It was only a small sound, hushed and hardly sharp enough to arouse Ben
from his sleep; but it was deadly, savage, unutterably sinister. She had
forgotten that Ben did not wage war alone. For the moment she had given
no thought to his terrible ally,--a pack brother faithful to the death.

A great, gaunt form raised up from the pile of duffle in the canoe; and
his fangs showed ivory white in the wan light. It was Fenris, and he
guarded the canoe. He crouched, ready to spring if she drew near.

The girl sobbed once, then stole back to her blankets.

XXV

Ben wakened refreshed, at peace with the world as far as he could ever
be until his ends were attained; and immediately built a roaring fire.
Beatrice still slept, exhausted from the stress and suspense of her
attempt to escape. When the leaping flames had dispelled the frost from
the grass about the fire Ben stepped to her side and touched her
shoulder.

"It's time to get up and go on," he said. "We have only a few hours more
of travel."

It was true. The river had fallen appreciably during the night. Not many
hours remained in which to make their permanent landing. Although the
river was somewhat less violent from this point on, the lower water line
would make traveling practically as perilous as on the preceding day.