s mind rent by
conflicting emotions. He was in the King's service, and it was his
duty to respond whenever called. But why did not Davidson leave him
alone now? What right had he to send for him when he knew of the
importance of his mission in searching for the missing girl? At times
he felt inclined to disobey the summons. He could make a living in
some other way. It was not necessary for him to remain in the King's
service. Some one else could do the work. But each time a voice
whispered that such a course would not be honourable. He had not yet
taken his discharge, and so was not free. How could he ever again face
Davidson and the rangers? They would consider him a traitor, and he
well knew how they would discuss him around their camp fires. To them
his deflection from duty would be an unpardonable offence. They would
condone almost anything rather than disloyalty to the King. Duty to
him overshadowed every other matter, even that of the heart.

As Dane paced up and down thinking of these things, his mother's words
flashed into his mind. "Be always loyal to God and the King above all
things," she had impressed upon him. "The King is God's anointed one,
and he rules by divine right." Dane had never doubted this, neither
did he do so now. But he had since learned that love, too, is a divine
thing, and cannot lightly be disobeyed. What is the King to me? he
asked himself. A mere name. But Jean is a living reality. The King
lives in luxury, and has millions to look after his interests. But
Jean is now wandering somewhere in the wilderness, in great need, and
with no one to help her. Why should I not go to her first of all? I
can live without the King, but not without Jean.

The more he thought, the fiercer became the battle. Night had closed
around him, and the steadily increasing nor'east wind sang the prelude
of a coming storm. Dane glanced at the moon riding high above the tops
of the pointed trees. He knew the meaning of its overcast appearance,
and the circle which surrounded it. There was no time to be lost. He
must decide at once. But which should it be? Pete was asleep, and the
fire was low. Mechanically he stooped and threw a few sticks upon the
hot coals. As the flames leaped up they illuminated the ground for
some distance around. They brought into clear relief the line made by
the Indian upon the sand. This primitive symbol arrested his
attention, and a sudden fancy entere