distinguish, although he was certain that it was a call for help.
Hesitating no longer, he surged rapidly forward, keeping careful watch
upon the crooked tracks. Someone was in need, he was certain, who had
become bewildered, lost the trail, and in despair had uttered a wild
cry for help. Such cases were not uncommon, especially in winter,
where men had perished, and the great forest had never revealed the
secrets.

In a few minutes his keen eyes caught sight of something huddled at the
foot of a lordly tree. That it was a human form he was sure, and as he
stepped forward a great cry of surprise leaped from his lips. Like one
almost bereft of his senses he sprang toward the girl, caught her in
his arms, and looked into her white face.

"Jean! Jean!" he passionately cried. "Don't you know me, your own
Dane? Open your eyes, and speak to me!"

Slowly, as if coming out of a troubled dream, the girl opened her eyes,
and stared into her lover's face.

"Don't look at me that way," he pleaded. "Don't you know me? It is
Dane."

Then he kissed her again, and again, beseeching her, and calling upon
her to speak.

Gradually the light of understanding dawned in Jean's eyes. At first
she imagined it was but a happy dream from which she would shortly
awaken. But as those strong arms held her firm, and that loved face
remained close to hers, she knew that in very truth it was her own