They stood before the splintered, lightning-scarred shaft in the opening of the woods, where Low had built her first camp-fire.

She carefully picked up the herbarium, but her quick eye had already detected in the distance, before she had allowed Dunn to enter the opening with her, that her note was gone.

Low had been there before them; he had been warned, as his absence from the cabin showed; he would not return there.

They were free from interruption--but where had he gone?
The sick man drew a long breath of relief as she seated him in the clover-grown hollow where she had slept the second night of her stay.
"It's cooler than those cursed woods," he said.

"I suppose it's because it's a little like a grave.