Somewhere in that great wilderness there was another camp-fire that night, and in that camp Minnetaki was a captive.

Some indefinable sensation seemed to creep into him, telling him that she was awake, and that she was thinking of her friends.

Was it a touch of sleep, or that wonderful thing called mental telepathy, that wrought the next picture in his brain?
It came with startling vividness.

He saw the girl beside a fire.

Her beautiful hair, glistening black in the firelight, hung in a heavy braid over her shoulder; her eyes were staring wildly into the flames, as if she were about to leap into them, and back of her so close that he might have touched her, was a figure that sent a chill of horror through him.