n Cloud?"

Peter tried to answer, and thumped his tail, but even as he asked the
questions there was a doubt growing in Jolly Roger's mind. He wanted
to go back, and as darkness gathered about him he was urged by a great
loneliness. Only Yellow Bird grieved with him in his loss of Nada, and
understood how empty life had become for him. She had, in a way, become
a part of Nada; her presence raised him out of despair, her voice gave
him hope, her unconquerable spirit--fighting for his happiness--inspired
him until he saw light where there had been only darkness. The impelling
desire to return to her brought him to his feet and down to the pebbly
shore of the lake, where the water rippled softly in the thickening
gloom. But a still more powerful force held him back, and he went to his
blankets, spread over a thick couch of balsam boughs. For hours his eyes
were wide open and sleepless.

He no longer thought of Cassidy, but of Yellow Bird. Doubt--a charitable
inclination to half believe--gave way in him to a conviction which he
could not fight down. More than once in his years of wilderness life
strange facts had compelled him to give some credence to the power of
the Indian conjurer. Belief in the mastery of the mind was part of his
faith in nature. It had come to him from his mother, who had lived and
died in the strength of her creed.

"Think hard, and with faith, if you want anything to come true," she had
told him. And this was also Yellow Bird's creed. Was it possible she
had told him the truth? Had her mind actually communed with the mind
of Nada? Had she, through the sheer force of her illimitable faith,
projected her subconscious self into the future that she might show him
the way? His eyes were staring, his ears unhearing, as he thought of
the proof which Yellow Bird had given to him. A few hours ago she had
brought him warning of impending danger. There had been no hesitation
and no doubt. She had come to him unequivocal and sure. Without seeing,
without hearing, she knew Cassidy was stealing upon him through the
night.

In the darkness Jolly Roger sat up, his heart beating fast. Without
effort, and with no thought of the necessity of proof, Yellow Bird had
given him a test of her power. It had been a spontaneous and unstaged
thing, a woman's heart reaching out for him--as she had promised that it
would. And yet, even as the simplicity and truth of it pressed upon him,
doubt followed with its questions. If,