Behind the closed door of the tiny cabin was all that the world now held worth fighting for.

By turning his head he could see the faint illumination of the candle at the window.

The light--the cabin--Marette! He laughed inanely, foolishly, like a boy.

He began to hear a dull, droning murmur, a sound that with each stroke of the sweep grew into a more distinct, cataract-like roar.

It was the river.