s were looking through miles upon
miles of deep forest, and at the end he saw the thin and pitiless face
of a man who was following his trail, Breault the Ferret.

His arms closed more tightly about her, and he pressed her face against
him.

"And I pray God you will never be sorry," he said, still looking through
the miles of forest.

"No, no--sorry I shall never be," she cried softly. "Not if we fly, and
go hungry, and fight--and die. Never shall I be sorry--with you," and he
felt the tightening of her arms.

And then, as he remained silent, with his lips on the velvety smoothness
of her hair, she told him what Father John had already told him--of her
wild effort to overtake him in that night of storm when he had fled
from the Missioner's cabin at Cragg's Ridge; and in turn he told her how
Peter came to him in the break of the morning with the treasure which
had saved him heart and soul, and how he had given that treasure into
the keeping of Yellow Bird, on the shores of Wollaston.

And thereafter, for an hour, as they wandered through the May-time
sweetness of the forest, she would permit him to talk of only Yellow
Bird and Sun Cloud; and, one thing leading to another, she learned how
it was that Yellow Bird had been his fairy in childhood days, and how
he came to be an outlaw for her in later manhood. Her eyes were shining
when he had finished, and her red lips were a-tremble with the quickness
of her breathing.

"Some day--you'll take me there," she whispered. "Oh, I'm so proud of
you, my Roger. And I love Yellow Bird. And Sun Cloud. Some day--we'll
go!"

He nodded, happiness overshadowing the fear of Breault that had grown in
his heart.

"Yes, we'll go. I've dreamed it, and the dream helped to keep me
alive--"

And then he told her of Cassidy, and of the paradise he had found with
Giselle and her grandfather on the other side of Wollaston.

And so it happened the hours passed swiftly, and it was afternoon when
they returned to Father John's cabin, and Nada went into her room.

In the early waning of the sun the feast which the Leaf Bud had been
preparing was ready, and not until then did Nada appear again.

And once more the lump rose up in Roger's throat at the wonder of her,
for very completely she had transformed herself into a woman again,
from the softly shining coils of hair on the crown of her head to the
coquettish little slippers that set off her dainty feet. And he saw the
white gleam of s