d instincts, ever more
in dominance these past weeks, would likely halt him at the cavern maw,
permitting no intimacy other than to ascertain that all was well. They
were too strong ever to brook man's control again. The moon was a moon
of desire, but only because it was also the moon of memory,--and perhaps
memories, stirring and exalting, were sweeping through him. Straight as
an arrow he turned toward the cave.

His followers--the gaunt female and two younger males, the structure
about which the winter pack would form--hesitated at first. They had no
commanding memories of the cavern on the far side of the lake. Yet
Fenris was their leader; by the deep-lying laws of the pack they must
follow where he led. They could not decoy him into the trails of game.
As ever they sped swiftly, silently after him.

In this forest of desires Ben knew but one,--that he might yet be of aid
to Beatrice. But he knew in his heart that it was a vain hope. He was
within a hundred yards of Ray's camp now, but the struggle to reach the
lake and the poling across its waters had brought him seemingly to the
absolute limit of his strength, clear to the brink of utter exhaustion.
Never in his life before had he known the full meaning of
fatigue,--fatigue that was like a paralysis, blunting the mechanism of
the brain, burning like a slow fire in his muscles, poisoning the vital
fluids of his nerves. Stroke after stroke, never ceasing!--The flame was
high, crackling--just before him. Through a rift in the trees he could
see the outline of two men and the slim form of the girl. Just a few
yards more.

But of all the desires that the moon invoked in the woods people there
were none so unredeemed, so wicked and cruel as this that slowly wakened
in the evil hearts of these two degenerate men, Beatrice's captors. She
sensed it only vaguely at first. All the disasters that had fallen upon
her had not taught her to accept such a thing as this: surely this would
be spared her, at least. There is a kindly blind spot in the brain that
often will not let the ugly truth go home.

For a strange, still moment Ray's face seemed devoid of all expression.
It was flat and lifeless as dark clay. Then Beatrice felt the insult of
his quickening gaze.

"Put a rope around her wrists, Chan," he said. "We don't want to take
chances on her getting away."

He spoke slowly, rather flatly. There was nothing that her senses could
seize upon--either in his face or voice