around him, and the steadily increasing nor'east wind sang the prelude
of a coming storm. Dane glanced at the moon riding high above the tops
of the pointed trees. He knew the meaning of its overcast appearance,
and the circle which surrounded it. There was no time to be lost. He
must decide at once. But which should it be? Pete was asleep, and the
fire was low. Mechanically he stooped and threw a few sticks upon the
hot coals. As the flames leaped up they illuminated the ground for
some distance around. They brought into clear relief the line made by
the Indian upon the sand. This primitive symbol arrested his
attention, and a sudden fancy entered his mind. Picking up a small
stick, he wrote in the sand on the south of the line the word "King,"
and on the north "Jean." These he compared with critical eyes.

"Same number of letters in each," he mused. "One stands for duty, the
other for love. K-i-n-g, J-e-a-n," he spelled. "They both sound good,
and have a fine ring about them. I am bound to both, and must decide
now. Oh, Lord, which shall it be!"

The perspiration stood out in beads upon his forehead, so intense was
his emotion.

"I can't decide against Jean!" he groaned. "And I can't be disloyal to
the King!"

Again his mother's words came to his mind. "Be loyal to God and the
King above all things." How would she choose if she were in his place?
Yes, he knew. Not for an instant would she have hesitated. For a few
minutes he stood staring straight before him. His face was pale, and
his hands clenched hard, and his lips were firmly compressed. At
length he turned, walked over to where Pete was lying, and touched him