As the fresh juniper branches blazed up Head-nurse came tottering and stumbling into its light.

Roy sprang to help her, but she pushed him aside.
"The Heir-to-Empire ?" she muttered, her lips almost refusing to form the words.

"The Heir-to-Empire, the Admired-of-the-World----" Roy pointed to the little tent.

"There! Safe! Well! Asleep!" he cried; and the poor woman with a sob sank as she stood, and lay prone muttering long strings of titles.
Before a minute had passed Foster-father and Foster-mother struggled into the circle of light, and after a word of question and reply, sank down also.
Then there was a long pause, but no sign came of good Old Faithful's tall, gaunt figure.

At last Roy spoke.
"Faithful ?" he asked in a low whisper.