Mentally and physically he was fighting the ogre that was striving to achieve possession of his brain.

Over and over he repeated his faith that Nada and the Missioner had escaped and he would find them in the settlements.
Less than ever he thought of the law in these hours.

What happened to himself was of small importance now, if he could find Nada alive before the menace caught up with him from behind, or ambushed him ahead.
Yet the necessity of caution impinged itself upon him even in the recklessness of his determination to find her if he had to walk into the arms of the law that was hunting him.
For an hour they went on, and as the moon sank westward it seemed to turn its face to look at them; and behind them, when they looked back, the world was transformed into a black pit, while ahead--with the glow of it streaming over their shoulders--ghostly shapes took form, and vision reached farther.

Twice they caught the silvery gleam of lakes through the tree-stubs, and again they walked with the rippling murmur of a stream that kept for a mile within the sound of their ears.

But even here, with water crying out its invitation to life, there was no life.
Another hour after that Jolly Roger's pulse beat a little faster as he strained his eyes to see ahead.