. He knew that not a day or night would pass that he would not
think or dream of Marette Radisson. The wonder of her had grown more
vivid for him with each hour that passed, and he was sorry now that he
had not dared to touch her hair. She would not have been offended with
him, for she had kissed him--after he had killed the impulse to lay his
hand on that soft glory that had crowned her head.

And then the little bell in his watch tinkled the hour of ten! He sat
up with a jerk. For a space he held his breath while he listened. In
the hall outside his room there was no sound. An inch at a time he drew
himself off his bed until he stood on his feet. His clothes hung on
hooks in the wall, and he groped his way to them so quietly that one
listening at the crack of his door would not have heard him. He dressed
swiftly. Then he made his way to the window, looked out, and listened.

In the brilliant starlight he saw nothing but the two white stubs of
the lightning-shattered trees in which the owls lived. And it was very
still. The air was fresh and sweet in his face. In it he caught the
scent of the distant balsams and cedars. The world, wonderful in its
night silence, waited for him. It was impossible for him to conceive of
failure or death out there, and it seemed unreal and trivial that the
Law should expect to hold him, with that world reaching out its arms to
him and calling him.

Assured that the moment for action was at hand, he moved quickly. In
another ten seconds he was through the window, and his feet were on the
ground. For a space he stood out clear in the starlight. Then he
hurried to the end of the building and hid himself in the shadow. The
swiftness of his movement had brought him no physical discomfort, and
his blood danced with the thrill of the earth under his feet and the
thought that his wound must be even more completely healed than he had
supposed. A wild exultation swept over him. He was free! He could see
the river now, shimmering and talking to him in the starlight, urging
him to hurry, telling him that only a little while ago another had gone
north on the breast of it, and that if he hastened it would help him to
overtake her. He felt the throb of new life in his body. His eyes shone
strangely in the semi-gloom.

It seemed to him that only yesterday Marette had gone. She could not be
far away, even now. And in these moments, with the breath of freedom
stirring him with the glory of new life, she