d never have dared to curse or beat, and
he--Roger McKay--was afraid to gather her back into his arms again.

And then, even as his fingers slowly drew themselves away from her
shoulders, he saw that which had not changed--the wonder-light in her
eyes, the soul that lay as open to him now as on that other day in
Indian Tom's cabin, when Mrs. Captain Kidd had bustled and squeaked on
the pantry shelf, and Peter had watched them as he lay with his broken
leg in the going down of the sun. And as he hesitated it was Nada
herself who came into his arms, and laid her head on his breast, and
trembled and laughed and cried there, while Father John came up and
patted her shoulder, and smiled happily at McKay, and then went on to
the cabin in the clearing. For a time after that Jolly Roger crushed
his face in Nada's hair, and neither said a word, but there was a
strange throbbing of their hearts together, and after a little Nada
reached up a hand to his cheek, and stroked it tenderly, bristly beard
and all.

"I'll never let you run away from me again--Mister--Jolly Roger," she
said, and it was the little Nada of Cragg's Ridge who whispered the
words, half sobbing; but in the voice there was also something very
definite and very sure, and McKay felt the glorious thrill of it as he
raised his face from her hair, and saw once more the sun-filled world
about him.

CHAPTER XVIII

Following this day Peter was observant of a strange excitement in the
cabin on the Burntwood. It was not so much a thing of physical
happening, but more the mysterious _feel_ of something impending and very
near. The day following their arrival in the Pashkokogon country his
master seemed to have forgotten him entirely. It was Nada who noticed
him, but even she was different; and Father John went about, overseeing
two Indians whom he kept very busy, his pale, thin face luminous with
an anticipation which roused Peter's curiosity, and kept him watchful.
He was puzzled, too, by the odd actions of the humans about him. The
second morning Nada remained in her room, and Jolly Roger wandered off
into the woods without his breakfast, and Father John ate alone,
smiling gently as he looked at the tightly closed door of Nada's
bedroom. Even Oosimisk, the Leaf Bud, the sleek-haired Indian woman who
cared for the house, was nervously expectant as she watched for Nada,
and Mistoos, her husband, grunted and grimaced as he carried in from
the edge of the forest