The long cold night passed wearily, and the howling of the
wolves caused me to grip my revolver, yet at daybreak we arose
refreshed, and notwithstanding the terrible pangs of hunger now
gnawing at our vitals, we were prepared to renew our desperate dash
for liberty.
Although I had paper, I possessed no pencil with which to write,
therefore I could only communicate by signs with the mysterious
prisoner of Kajana, the beautiful dark-eyed girl who held me
irrevocably beneath the spell of her beauty. All the little acts of
homage I was able to perform she accepted with a quiet, calm
dignity, while in her deep luminous eyes I read an unfathomable
mystery.
The mist had not cleared, for it was soon after dawn when we
again moved along, hungry, chill, and yet hopeful. At a spring we
