Johnny went. Looking back over his shoulder he saw the girl outlined
vividly against the fire, skirts and hair flying stormily about her in
the wind. So might the primal woman stand ere the march of
civilization had over-sexed her.

The wind was growing fiercer now, driving the rain about in angry
gusts. Thunder cannonaded noisily overhead.

Veering suddenly in a new direction--for in the roar of the storm the
bark of the dog seemed curiously to shift--Johnny collided violently
with a dark figure running wildly through the forest. Both men fell.
Finding his invisible assailant disposed viciously to contest
detention, Johnny fell in with his mood and buried his long, lean
fingers cruelly in the other's throat.

The fortunes of war turned speedily. Johnny's victim squirmed
desperately to his feet and bounded away through the forest.

Now as they ran, stumbling and finding their way as best they might in
the glitter of lightning, there came from the region of the camp the
unmistakable crack of a pistol. Two shots in rapid succession
followed--an interval of five seconds or so--and then another. The
final trio was the shot signal of the old buffalo hunters which Diane
had taught to Johnny.

"Where are you?" barked the signal.

Drawing his ancient pistol as he ran, Johnny, in vain, essayed the
answer. The veteran missed fire. After all, reflected Johnny