“For goodness sake, Mr. Darby,” the girl cried.  “What have you got in this boat?  Surely that isn’t just the lunch—­” She pointed to the pile of supplies, covered by the blankets, in the center of the craft.

“It looks like we had enough to stay a month, doesn’t it?” he laughed.  “There’s blankets there, of course—­for table cloths and to make us comfortable—­and the lunch, and a pillow or two—­and some little surprises.  The rest is just some stores that I’m going to take this opportunity to put across the river—­to my next camp.  Now, Miss Neilson—­if you’ll take the seat in the bow.  Fenris is going to ride in the middle—­”

The girl’s eyes fell with some apprehension on the shaggy wolf.  “I haven’t established very friendly relations with Fenris—­”

“I’d leave him at home, but he won’t stand for it.  Besides I’d like to teach him how to retrieve grouse.  Lie down, old boy.”  Ben motioned, and Fenris sprawled at his feet.  “Now come here and pet him, Miss Neilson.  His fur, at this season, is wonderful—­”

Reluctant to show her fear before Ben, the girl drew near.  The wolf shivered as the soft hand touched his side and moved slowly to his fierce head; but he gave no further sign of enmity.

“He understands,” Ben explained.  “He realizes that I’ve accepted you, and you’re all right.  Until he’s given orders otherwise, he’ll treat you with the greatest respect.”

She was deeply and sincerely pleased.  It did not occur to her, in the least, little degree, that occasion could possibly arise whereby contradictory orders would be given.  Ben started to help her into the boat.

“You’ve not forgotten anything?” he asked casually.

“Nothing I can think of.”

“Got plenty of extra shells?”

“Part of a box.  It’s a small caliber automatic, you see, and a box holds fifty.”

“It is, eh?” Ben’s tone indicated deep interest.  “May I see ’em a minute?  I think I had a gun like it once.  Not the gun—­just the box of shells.”

She had strapped the weapon around her waist, by now, so she didn’t attempt to put it in his hands.  From her pocket she procured a small box of shells, and these she passed to him.  He examined them with a great show of interest, balancing their weight in the palm of his hand; then he carelessly threw the box down among the duffle in front of the stern seat.  Presently he started to push off.

“You’re not taking the other paddle?” the girl asked curiously.

“No.  I don’t believe in letting young ladies work when I take ’em on an outing.  You are just to sit in the bow and enjoy yourself.  Fenris, sit still and don’t rock the boat!”

Just one moment more he hesitated.  From his pocket he drew a piece of paper, carefully folded and sealed with tallow.  This he inserted into a little crack in the blade of the second paddle—­the one that was to be left at the landing.