But he tried to smile as he clutched a hand at his breast.
"I have hurried," he said, making a great effort to speak calmly, "and I am--winded--" He drew in a deep breath, and looked at Jolly Roger.
"Roger--I have hurried to tell you--Breault is coming.

He cannot be far behind me.

Possibly half a mile, or a mile--" In the thickening dusk he took Nada's white face between his hands.
"I find--at last--that I was mistaken, child," he said, very calmly now.
"I believe it is not God's will that you remain to be taken by Breault.
You must go.

There is no time to lose.

If Breault does not stumble off the trail in this gloom he will be here in a few minutes.