Her hands were clutched at her bosom, and she was staring--staring out into the night beyond the burning log, and in her face was a look of terror.

He sprang toward her, and out of the gloom beyond her rushed Donald MacDonald.

With a cry she turned to Aldous and flung herself shivering and half-sobbing into his arms.
Gray-faced, his eyes burning like the smouldering coals in the fire, Donald MacDonald stood a step behind them, his long rifle in his hands.
"What is it ?" cried Aldous.

"What has frightened you, Joanne ?" She was shuddering against his breast.
"It--it must have been a dream," she said.

"It--it frightened me.