and strained when he said to Aldous:

"I guess we'll make it to-morrow, Johnny--jus' about as the sun's going
down."

They camped early, and Aldous rolled himself in his blanket when Joanne
extinguished the candle in her tent. He found that he could not sleep, and
he relieved MacDonald at eleven o'clock.

"Get all the rest you can, Mac," he urged. "There may be doings
to-morrow--at about sundown."

There was but little moonlight now, but the stars were clear. He lighted
his pipe, and with his rifle in the crook of his arm he walked slowly up
and down over a hundred-yard stretch of the narrow plain in which they had
camped. That night they had built their fire beside a fallen log, which was
now a glowing mass without flame. Finally he sat down with his back to a
rock fifty paces from Joanne's tepee. It was a splendid night. The air was
cool and sweet. He leaned back until his head rested against the rock, and
there fell upon him the fatal temptation to close his eyes and snatch a few
minutes of the slumber which had not come to him during the early hours of
the night. He was in a doze, oblivious to movement and the softer sounds of
the night, when a cry pierced the struggling consciousness of his brain
like the sting of a dart. In an instant he was on his feet.

In the red glow of the log stood Joanne in her long white night robe. She
seemed to be swaying when he first saw her. Her hands were clutched at her
bosom, and she was staring--staring out into the night beyond the burning
log, and in her face was a look of terror. He sprang toward her, and out of
the gloom beyond her rushed Donald MacDonald. With a cry she turned to
Aldous and flung herself shivering and half-sobbing into his arms.
Gray-faced, his eyes burning like the smouldering coals in the fire, Donald
MacDonald stood a step behind them, his long rifle in his hands.

"What is it?" cried Aldous. "What has frightened you, Joanne?"

She was shuddering against his breast.

"It--it must have been a dream," she said. "It--it frightened me. But it
was so terrible, and I'm--I'm sorry, John. I didn't know what I was doing."

"What was it, dear?" insisted Aldous.

MacDonald had drawn very close.

Joanne raised her head.

"Please let me go back to bed, John. It was only a dream, and I'll tell it
to you in the morning, when there's sunshine--and day."

Something in MacDonald's tense, listening attitude caught Aldous' eyes.

"What was the dream?" he urged