asier at Cragg's Ridge than up here on the edge of the Barren
Land.

And again there was hope, a wild, almost unbelievable hope that with
Nada he might find that place which Yellow Bird, the sorceress, had
promised for them--that mystery-place of safety and of happiness which
she had called The Country Beyond, where "all would end well." He had
not the faith of Yellow Bird's people; he was not superstitious enough
to believe fully in her sorcery, except that he seized upon it as a
drowning man might grip at a floating sea-weed. Yet was the
under-current of hope so persistent that at times it was near faith. Up
to this hour Yellow Bird's sorcery had brought him nothing but the
truth. For him she had conjured the spirits of her people, and these
spirits, speaking through Yellow Bird's lips, had saved him from
Cassidy at the fishing camp and had performed the miracle on the shore
of Wollaston and had predicted the salvation that had come to him out
on the Barren. And so--was it not conceivable that the other would also
come true?

But these visions came to him only in flashes. As he traveled through
the hours the one vital desire of his being was to bring himself
physically into the presence of Nada, to feel the wild joy of her in
his arms once more, the crush of her lips to his, the caress of her
hands in their old sweet way at his face--and to hear her voice, the
girl's voice with the woman's soul behind it, crying out its undying
love, as he had last heard it that night in the Missioner's cabin many
months ago. After this had happened, then--if fate decreed it so--all
other things might end. Breault, the Ferret, might come. Or Porter. Or
that Somebody Else who was always on his trail. If the game finished
thus, he would be satisfied.

When he stopped to make a pot of black tea and warm a snack to eat
Jolly Roger tried to explain this new meaning of life to Peter.

"The big thing we must do is to get there--safely," he said, already
beginning to make plans in the back of his head. And then he went on,
building up his fabric of new hope before Peter, while he crunched his
luncheon of toasted bannock and fat bacon. There was something joyous
and definite in his voice which entered into Peter's blood and body.
There was even a note of excitement in it, and Peter's whiskers
bristled with fresh courage and his eyes gleamed and his tail thumped
the snow comprehendingly. It was like having a master come back to him
from th