t. It was the splitting of the solid
bed of ice into which the river that came up out of the south had been
transformed.

But somehow he did not readily sleep again. He was weary enough. His
mind was at rest. But sleep--sleep was reluctant, and the old thread of
his waking dreams came again as he gazed across at the beacon fire.

Hours passed. He had no idea of time. He had no care. He lay there
watching the dancing firelight, building for the hundredth time those
priceless castles of the night which the daylight loves to shatter.
Never were they more resplendent. Never was their lure more
irresistible.

But a drowsy fancy began to distort them. He had no knowledge of it. He
never realized the change. He passed to the realms of sleep like a tired
child, striving to follow the course of the flying sparks from the fire
till his final memory was of a hundred pairs of blazing eyes peering at
him out of the darkness.

He awoke with the grey of dawn. And as his eyes opened he heard a voice,
a gentle, low voice in which rang a world of gladness and tender
feeling.

"Why I just knew no one but Marcel could have lit that fire."

"Keeko!"

Every joyous emotion was thrilling in the man's exclamation. He leapt
from his blankets, and stood staring, in utter and complete amazement,
at the vision of the girl's smiling beauty.

* * * * *

Neither knew how it came about. It simply happened. Neither questioned,
or had thought to question. The long months of parting had completed
that which the summer had brought about. It was the spontaneous
confession of all that which had lain deep in the heart of each.

It was the girl who sought release from those caressing moments. Her
arms reaching up, clasped about the boy's muscular shoulders, parted,
and her warm woman's body stirred under the crushing embrace holding
her. Her lips were withdrawn from his, and, gazing up into the
passionate eyes above her, she spoke the desperate fears of her woman's
heart which had been submerged in the passion of the moment.

"But there's no time to lose!" she cried urgently. "Oh, Marcel, I came
because I just didn't dare to wait. It's you--you and those you love.
They mean to murder you. You--and those others. And so I came to bring
you warning."

The ardent light in the man's eyes changed. But the change seemed slow,
as though with difficulty only he was able to return to the things which
lay outside their love.