They were the voice of her faith in him, her promise that she would be with him always.

For the first time in many days Kent felt a new force within him, and he knew that she was not quite gone, that he had something of her left to fight for.
That night he made his bed for a last time in the crevice between the rocks, and his treasure was gathered within the protecting circle of his arms as he slept.
The next day he struck out north and east.

On the fifth day after he left the country of Andre Boileau he traded his watch to a half-breed for a cheap gun, ammunition, a blanket, flour, and a cooking outfit.
After that he had no hesitation in burying himself still deeper into the forests.
A month later no one would have recognized Kent as the one-time crack man of N Division.

Bearded, ragged, long-haired, he wandered with no other purpose than to be alone and to get still farther away from the river.

Occasionally he talked with an Indian or a half-breed.