camped for the night. He had often done so in the past,
for he could sleep as comfortably curled up in a nest of fir boughs
with the snow weaving its mystic web over him as on a soft bed. But
not to-night could he afford to tarry. Too much was at stake, so he
must hasten on, no matter how fierce the storm or how hard the trail.

His attention was at length arrested by recently-made marks in the
snow. He was woodsman enough to understand that some one was
travelling that way, evidently under considerable difficulty. Several
times he stopped to examine where the wayfarer had floundered about in
the snow in desperate efforts to regain the trail. He wondered who it
could be, so he hurried forward hoping to overtake the struggling man,
for the thought of a woman never once entered his mind.

He had gone but half a mile when he came to a place where the traveller
had left the trail and gone off to the right. He stood debating with
himself whether to follow or not, when the sound of a human voice
mingled with the roaring of the wind. What was said he could not
distinguish, although he was certain that it was a call for help.
Hesitating no longer, he surged rapidly forward, keeping careful watch
upon the crooked tracks. Someone was in need, he was certain, who had
become bewildered, lost the trail, and in despair had uttered a wild
cry for help. Such cases were not uncommon, especially in winter,
where men had perished, and the great forest had never revealed the
secrets.

In a few minutes his keen eyes caught sight of something huddled at the
foot of a lordly tree. That it was a human form he was sure, and as he
stepped forward a great cry of surprise leaped from his lips. Like one
almost bereft of his senses he sprang toward the girl, caught her in
his arms, and looked into her white face.

"Jean! Jean!" he passionately cried. "Don't you know me, your own
Dane? Open your eyes, and speak to me!"

Slowly, as if coming out of a troubled dream, the girl opened her eyes,
and stared into her lover's face.

"Don't look at me that way," he pleaded. "Don't you know me? It is
Dane."

Then he kissed her again, and again, beseeching her, and calling upon
her to speak.

Gradually the light of understanding dawned in Jean's eyes. At first
she imagined it was but a happy dream from which she would shortly
awaken. But as those strong arms held her firm, and that loved face
remained close to hers, she knew that in