staggered and ran, and here and there dark clouds were racing past
the face of it, and the slumberous whisper of storm grew nearer in
the air. And then came the time when one of the dark clouds rode
under the moon and the two ran on in darkness. The cloud passed,
and the moon flooded the road again with light--and suddenly Jolly
Roger stopped in his tracks, and his heart almost broke in the
strain of that moment.

Ahead of them, staggering toward them, sobbing as she came, was
Nada. Jolly Roger's blazing eyes saw everything in that vivid
light of the moon. Her hair was tangled and twisted about her
shoulders and over her breast. One arm was bare where the sleeve
had been torn away, and her girlish breast gleamed white where her
waist had been stripped half from her body. And then she saw Jolly
Roger in the trail, with wide-open, reaching arms, and with a cry
such as Peter had never heard come from her lips before she ran
into them, and held up her face to him in the yellow moon-light.
In her eyes--great, tearless, burning pools--he saw the tragedy
and yet it was only that, and not horror, not despair, NOT the
other thing. His arms closed crushingly about her. Her slim body
seemed to become a part of him. Her hot lips reached up and clung
to his.

And then,

"Did--he get you--to--Mooney's shack--" He felt her body stiffen
against him.

"No," she panted. "I fought--every inch. He dragged me, and hit
me, and tore my clothes--but I fought. And up there--in the trail