A mile in that direction, beyond the cleft that ran like a great furrow through the Ridge, was Jed Hawkins' cabin, still and dark under the faint glow of the stars.

And in that cabin was Nada.

He felt that she was sitting at her little window, looking out into the night, thinking of him--and a great desire gripped at his heart, tugging him in its direction.

But he turned toward the west.
"We can't let her know what has happened, boy," he said, feeling the urge of caution.

"For a little while we must let her think we have left the country.