he could see there were initials, which he could not
make out, engraved on the back of the case. The ring, too, was of gold. It
was one of the most gruesome ornaments Aldous had ever seen. It was in the
form of a coiled and writhing serpent, wide enough to cover half of one's
middle finger between the joints. Again the eyes of the two men met, and
again Aldous observed that strange, stunned look in the old hunter's face.
He turned and walked back toward the tent, MacDonald following him slowly,
still staring, his long gaunt arms and hands hanging limply at his side.

Joanne heard them, and came out of the tent. A choking cry fell from her
lips when she saw MacDonald. For a moment one of her hands clutched at the
wet canvas of the tent, and then she swayed forward, knowing what John
Aldous had in his hand. He stood voiceless while she looked. In that tense
half-minute when she stared at the objects he held it seemed to him that
her heart-strings must snap under the strain. Then she drew back from
them, her eyes filled with horror, her hands raised as if to shut out the
sight of them, and a panting, sobbing cry broke from between her pallid
lips.

"Oh, my God!" she breathed. "Take them away--take them away!"

She staggered back to the tent, and stood there with her hands covering her
face. Aldous turned to the old hunter and gave him the things he held.

A moment later he stood alone where the three had been, staring now as
Joanne had stared, his heart beating wildly.

For Joanne, in entering the tent, had uncovered her face; it was not grief
that he saw there, but the soul of a woman new-born. And as his own soul
responded in a wild rejoicing, MacDonald, going over the summit and down
into the hollow, mumbled in his beard:

"God ha' mercy on me! I'm doin' it for her an' Johnny, an' because she's
like my Jane!"

CHAPTER XVI

Plunged from one extreme of mental strain to another excitement that was as
acute in its opposite effect, John Aldous stood and stared at the tent-flap
that had dropped behind Joanne. Only a flash he had caught of her face; but
in that flash he had seen the living, quivering joyousness of freedom
blazing where a moment before there had been only horror and fear. As if
ashamed of her own betrayal, Joanne had darted into the tent. She had
answered his question a thousand times more effectively than if she had
remained to tell him with her lips that MacDonald's proofs were
sufficient--tha