over his life. He knew that Nada was gone, and each day that
passed put her farther away from him, yet he also sensed the fact
that Jolly Roger went to her, and when the outlaw returned to the
cabin Peter was filled with a yearning hope that Nada was
returning with him.

But gradually Peter came to think less about Nada, and more about
Jolly Roger, until at last his heart beat with a love for this man
which was greater than all other things in his world. And in these
days Jolly Roger found in Peter's comradeship and growing
understanding a comforting outlet for the things which at times
consumed him. Peter saw it all--hours when Jolly Roger's voice and
laughter filled the cabin with cheer and happiness, and others
when his face was set in grim lines, with that hard, far-away look
in his eyes that Peter could never quite make out. It was at such
times, when Jolly Roger held a choking grip on the love in his
heart, that he told Peter things which he had never revealed to a
human soul.

In the dusk of one evening, as he sat wet with the fording of the
creek, he said to Peter,

"We ought to go, Peter. We ought to pack up--and go tonight.
Because--sometimes I'm afraid of myself, Pied-Bot. I'd kill for
her. I'd die for her. I'd give up the whole world, and live in a
prison cell--if I could have her with me. And that's dangerous,
Peter, because we can't have her. It's impossible, boy. She
doesn't guess why I'm here. She doesn't know I've been outlawin'
it for years, and that I'm hiding here because the Police would
never think of looking for Jolly Roger McKay this close to