Grey was tired, very tired, and the bed soft and comfortable. For some time, however, he lay there thinking over the events of the day. His principal thoughts were of Madeline. How strange that after such a long separation he should find her in such a desolate region—and in that house! The sight of her had brought back the old memories of happy days, when they had strolled together, talked, and loved. Thinking thus he drifted into a restless sleep in which he was besieged by wild dreams. He was surrounded by the "gang." They were trying to throttle him. Then he saw Madeline, with face as white as death, struggling in the grasp of Siwash Bill. Her eyes were full of terror as she reached out to him appealing hands for help. For an instant he had not the power to assist her. He was bound by chains which held him fast. With a great cry he made one mighty effort. The chains snapped and he was free. At once the scene faded and he awoke. The room was fairly light, for the bright moon was shining in through the little window. How late it was he could not tell. Overhead he could hear Buckskin Dan's deep breathing. For some time he lay quietly in the bunk, hoping that he would soon drop off to sleep again. But try as he might his eyes would not close. The dream had been too real, and ever before his mind rose Madeline's tearful face, while her cry of fear rang incessantly in his ears.
At length he could bear it no longer. The bunk seemed like a prison. Slipping quietly to the floor, he softly opened the door, and left the building. It was a glorious night, and the moon, almost full, was drifting through masses of fleecy clouds. The air was cool and a long, filmy fog hung over the trees down by the river. Grey stood for a while outside the door, and looked around. Not a sound broke the intense stillness of the night. The chill air cooled his flushed face. He looked toward Old Meg's house, and moved by a sudden impulse started down the trail. A walk, he thought, would do him no harm; he would sleep the better after it. He wished to look again upon the cabin which sheltered Madeline. It did not take him long to reach the little clearing in which the dwelling stood, and, not wishing to pass out into the open, he stepped aside from the trail a short distance.
Seating himself upon a fallen tree at the edge of the forest he could obtain a good view of the house, while he himself was hidden. He was somewhat surprised to see a light shining in one of the windows facing him. Then he thought of the child. Perhaps someone was watching by its side. Was it Madeline? Was she sitting there in that room keeping faithful ward over the little one? It was just like her, he knew that, to give up her own comfort for others, especially for children. He looked carefully around. Not a living thing could he see. Suppose he stepped across to the house and peered in through the window. It could do no harm, and he did so long to see her face again.
He was about to step out into the open, when an object arrested his attention, which caused him to shrink back behind a small fir tree. The object soon proved to be a man, creeping guardedly toward the house from the right. Although he kept somewhat in the shade of the trees he was exposed to full view. Almost breathlessly Grey watched him as he proceeded slowly by the side of the building until he came to the window from which the light shone. Here he paused, and looked cautiously into the room. What he beheld Grey could not tell, but presently he went to the door and gave a gentle tap. Ere long it was slowly opened, and someone appeared. At that distance he could not hear what was being said, although several minutes elapsed as Grey stood there straining his ears in an effort to distinguish the words. Then the sounds grew louder, and occasionally an intelligent word drifted toward him. It was a woman's voice he heard, and now there was no doubt about it—it was Madeline's. What was she doing there at that time of the night? He recognised the man by his voice. It was Siwash Bill—and what was Madeline doing there with him? Was it his custom to meet her thus? These thoughts and others of a similar nature surged through Grey's brain.
"I tell you no! It can never be!"
How decisive were the words which now reached him clear and distinct. Then they sank lower, and listen as he might he could not distinguish their meaning.
"Leave me, and never come here again!"
Ah, he could hear these, and they thrilled the heart of the concealed listener. She did not wish him to come. A weight was lifted from his mind, and he breathed more freely. It was only for an instant, however, for at once a cry fell upon his ears—a cry for help—and it was Madeline's! No longer now did he hesitate. She was in danger, and needed him. He sprang from his hiding place, and bounded across the open, straight toward the spot where the two were standing.