t love; she crucified herself, even as she held
out her arms to him across that thousand miles of desolation. Frankly
she had written of the great price she was offering for this one chance
of life and happiness. She told of Philip's love, and of the reward she
had offered him should Peter God find that in his heart love had died
for her. Which should it be?

Twice Philip read that wonderful message he had brought into the North,
and he envied Peter God the outlaw.

The thirty minutes were gone when he entered the cabin. Peter God was
waiting for him. He motioned him to a seat close to him.

"You have read it?" he asked.

Philip nodded. In these moments he did not trust himself to speak.
Peter God understood. The flush was deeper in his face; his eyes burned
brighter with the fever; but of the two he was the calmer, and his
voice was steady.

"I haven't much time, Curtis," he said, and he smiled faintly as he
folded the pages of the letter, "My head is cracking. But I've thought
it all out, and you've got to go back to her--and tell her that Peter
God is dead."

A gasp broke from Philip's lips. It was his only answer.

"It's--best," continued Peter God, and he spoke more slowly, but
firmly. "I love her, Curtis. God knows that it's been only my dreams of
her that have kept me alive all these years. She wants to come to me,
but it's impossible. I'm an outlaw. The law won't excuse my killing of
the cobra. We'd have to hide. All our lives we'd have to hide.
And--some day--they might get me. There's just one thing to do. Go back
to her. Tell her Peter God is dead. And--make her happy--if you can."

For the first time something rose and overwhelmed the love in Philip's
breast.

"She wants to come to you," he cried, and he leaned toward Peter God,
white-faced, clenching his hands. "She wants to come!" he repeated.
"And the law won't find you. It's been seven years--and God knows no
word will ever go from me. It won't find you. And if it should, you can
fight it together, you and Josephine."

Peter God held out his hands.

"Now I know I need have no fear in sending you back," he said huskily.
"You're a man. And you've got to go. She can't come to me, Curtis. It
would kill her--this life. Think of a winter here--madness--the yapping
of the foxes--"

He put a hand to his head, and swayed.

"You've got to go. Tell her Peter God is dead--"

Philip sprang forward as Peter God crumpled down on his bunk.

After tha