n the look of his eyes and the manner in
which they rested upon Nada.

Peter alone saw the mysterious thing which happened in the early
evening. He was with Nada in her room. And she was the old Nada again,
hugging his shaggy head in her arms, and whispering to him in the old,
excited way. And strange memory of a bundle came back to Peter, for
very quietly, as if unseen ears might be listening to her, Nada
gathered many things in a pile on the table, and made another bundle.
This bundle she thrust under her bed, just as a long time ago she had
thrust a similar bundle under a banksian clump in the meadowland below
Cragg's Ridge.

Father John went to his bed very early, and he was thinking of Breault.
The Hudson's Bay Company post was only twelve miles away, and Breault
would surely go there before questing from cabin to cabin for his
victim.

So it happened that a little after midnight he rose without making a
sound, and by the light of a candle wrote a note for Nada, saying he
had business at the post that day, and without wakening them had made
an early start. This note Nada read to McKay when they sat at breakfast.

"Quite frequently he has gone like that," Nada explained. "He loves the
forests at night--in the light of the moon."

"But last night there was no moon," said Roger.

"Yes--"

"And when Father John left the cabin the sky was clouded, and it was
very dark."

"You heard him go?"

"Yes, and saw him. There was a worried look in his face when he wrote
that note in the candle-glow."

"Roger, what do you mean?"

McKay went behind her chair, and tilted up her face, and kissed her
shining hair and questioning eyes.

"It means, precious little wife, that Father John is hurrying to the
post to get news of Breault if he can. It means that deep in his heart
he wants us to follow Yellow Bird's advice to the end. For he is sure
that he knows what Yellow Bird meant by 'The Country Beyond.' It is the
great big world outside the forests, a world so big that if need be we
can put ourselves ten thousand miles away from the trails of the
mounted police. That is the thought which is urging him to the post to
look for Breault."

Her arms crept up to his neck, and in a little voice trembling with
eagerness she said,

"Roger, my bundle is ready. I prepared it last night--and it is under
the bed."

He held her more closely.

"And you are willing to go with me--anywhere?"

"Yes, anywhere."

"To the end of