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And then he heard her say: "There is a scow at the bayou, Jeeers has kept it there, waiting, ready"

He had been thinking of Crossen's place and an open boat He blessed Fingers again, as he took Marette's hand in his own and started for the trail that led through the poplar thicket

Their feet slopped deep in wet and mud, and with the rain there was a wind that took their breath away It was ith away, and Kent hoped that the lightning would couide him In the first flare of it he looked down the slope that led riverward Little rivulets of water were running down it Rocks and stumps were in their way, and underfoot it was slippery Marette's fingers were clinging to his again, as she had held to thealow froled then in the sheer joy of their thrill, but it was a different thrill that stirred hiht, with its storhts

He sensed nothing of its disco of the blood in his body Sun and stars, day and night, sunshine and cloud, were trivial and inconsequential to hih the night with hi, breathing thing he loved more than he loved his own life For ht, and now that it was upon hier the huntser alone, but had a priceless thing to fight for, a priceless and helpless thing that was clinging to his fingers in the darkness He did not feel like a fugitive, but as one who has coreat triumph He sensed no uncertainty or doubt

The river lay ahead, and for him the river had become the soul and the promise of life It was Marette's river and his river, and in a little while they would be on it And Marette would then tell him about Kedsty He was sure of that She would tell him what had happened while he slept His faith was illimitable

They cahtning revealed to hirowth in which O'Connor had seen Marette h this, and Kent struck out for it blindly in the darkness He did not try to talk, but he freed his companion's hand and put his arround, so that she was sheltered by him from the beat of the storm Then brush swished in their faces, and they stopped, waiting for the lightning again Kent was not anxious for it to coirl still closer, and in that pit of blackness, with the deluge about her and the crash of thunder over her head, she snuggled up against his breast, the throb of her body against hi, with him Her frailty, the helplessness of her, the slimness of her in the crook of his arm, filled him with an exquisite exultation He did not think of her now as the splendid, fearless creature who had leveled her little black gun at the three er the mysterious, defiant, unafraid person who had held him in a sort of awe that first hour in Kedsty's place For she was cruainst him now, utterly dependent and afraid In that chaos of stor told him that her nerve was broken, that without him she would be lost and would cry out in fear AND HE WAS GLAD! He held her tighter; he bent his head until his face touched the wet, crushed hair under the edge of her turban And then the lightning split open the night again, and he saw the way ahead of him to the trail