And at night after they had built their little cooking fire in the deepest heart of the bush he would lie half awake during the hours of darkness, the watchfulness of his senses never completely dulled in the stupor of sleep.
Since the night they had stopped at the settler's cabin Jolly Roger's face had grown grayer and thinner.

A number of times he had tried to assure himself what he would do in that moment which was coming when he would stand face to face with Breault the man-hunter.

His caution, after he left Fort William, was in a way an automatic instinct that worked for self-preservation in face of the fact that he was growing less and less concerned regarding Breault's appearance.

It was not in his desire to delay the end much longer.

The chase had been a long one, with its thrills and its happiness at times, but now he was growing tired and with Nada gone there was only hopeless gloom ahead.