He did not whistle or laugh, but moved quietly when he moved at all, with a set, strange look in his face.

He was making his last big fight against the desire to return to Cragg's Ridge.

Yellow Bird's predictions, and her warning, had no influence with him now.

He was thinking of Nada alone.

She was back there, waiting for him, praying for his return, ready and happy to become a fugitive with him--to accept her chances of life or death, of happiness or grief, in his company.