sat in the train that rocked west, ever west, and fitted into shape with grim precision every move in this game which he meant to play.
It must be played quickly. He could not go to Grey Wolf and not go to the barracks. That would raise suspicion too soon. And he could not go to the barracks without reporting to Sergeant Jones, who knew already that he had been detailed for the patrol and who would already be getting the outfit together. Therefore, at whatever hour of the day or the night he took Jennifer away with him, it would not be long before he was looked for. He could hoodwink them in several ways, and he thought those ways out, hour by hour, sitting in the position which Tempest knew so well, with one knee over the other, and his chin shut into his hand. But for all the start he might get it would be little enough in that country where the few winter trails are known as a man knows the number of his fingers. Again he felt irritation at Jennifer because she had gone back to Grey Wolf.
"She might have known I would come to her," he said. "She might have known."
He felt strangely fretful and angry about something. He was going to give what to him would be the greatest sacrifice of his life, even though he gained what he most desired by it. But he could feel no exaltation; no calm determination. A child playing up and down the corridor offered him some candy.
"Those are kisses," she said, with her red lips upturned. But he pushed her aside with his knee.
"I don't want any," he said sharply, and she ran back to her mother, half-frightened.
Then his mind began to run on the fear of what Jennifer would say. She would not refuse again. He had got to break down her resistance this time. He had got to do it. He felt maddened at the very thought of going North and leaving her where Ducane could trouble her.
"She has got to give in," he told himself. "She has got to give in."
And then he sat still, and thought of all the things which he would say to her.
He had a month in which to mature those plans and ar-
