Alan was inspired now by a great caution, a growing premonition which stirred him with uneasiness, and he began his own preparations as soon as Sokwenna had started on his mission.  The desire to leave at once, without the delay of an hour, pulled strong in him, but he forced himself to see the folly of such haste.  He would be away many months, possibly a year this time.  There was much to do, a mass of detail to attend to, a volume of instructions and advice to leave behind him.  He must at least see Stampede, and it was necessary to write down certain laws for Tautuk and Amuk Toolik.  As this work of preparation progressed, and the premonition persisted in remaining with him, he fell into a habit of repeating to himself the absurdity of fears and the impossibility of danger.  He tried to make himself feel uncomfortably foolish at the thought of having ordered the herdsmen in.  In all probability Graham would not appear at all, he told himself, or at least not for many days—­or weeks; and if he did come, it would be to war in a legal way, and not with murder.

Yet his uneasiness did not leave him.  As the hours passed and the afternoon lengthened, the invisible something urged him more strongly to take the trail beyond the cottonwoods, with Mary Standish at his side.  Twice he saw her between noon and five o’clock, and by that time his writing was done.  He looked at his guns carefully.  He saw that his favorite rifle and automatic were working smoothly, and he called himself a fool for filling his ammunition vest with an extravagant number of cartridges.  He even carried an amount of this ammunition and two of his extra guns to Sokwenna’s cabin, with the thought that it was this cabin on the edge of the ravine which was best fitted for defense in the event of necessity.  Possibly Stampede might have use for it, and for the guns, if Graham should come after he and Mary were well on their way to Nome.

After supper, when the sun was throwing long shadows from the edge of the horizon, Alan came from a final survey of his cabin and the food which Wegaruk had prepared for his pack, and found Mary at the edge of the ravine, watching the twilight gathering where the coulee ran narrower and deeper between the distant breasts of the tundra.

“I am going to leave you for a little while,” he said.  “But Sokwenna has returned, and you will not be alone.”

“Where are you going?”

“As far as the cottonwoods, I think.”

“Then I am going with you.”

“I expect to walk very fast.”

“Not faster than I, Alan.”

“But I want to make sure the country is clear in that direction before twilight shuts out the distances.”

“I will help you.”  Her hand crept into his.  “I am going with you, Alan,” she repeated.

“Yes, I—­think you are,” he laughed joyously, and suddenly he bent his head and pressed her hand to his lips, and in that way, with her hand in his, they set out over the trail which they had not traveled together since the day he had come from Nome.