In fact, abashed at the blind eyes suddenly unclosing so near her, she was on the point of letting her burden drop.  When dead men come to life in such a position, and begin to talk about “kissing the place,” young ladies, however independent of conventions, may well grow uneasy.

But the stranger, though alive, was evidently in a molluscous, invertebrate condition.  He could not sustain himself.  She still held him up, a little more at arm’s-length, and all at once the reaction from extreme anxiety brought a gush of tears to her eyes.

“Don’t cry,” says Wade, vaguely, and still only half-conscious.  “I promise never to do so again.”

At this, said with a childlike earnestness, the lady smiled.

“Don’t scalp me,” Wade continued, in the same tone.  “Squaws never scalp.”

He raised his hand to his bleeding forehead.

She laughed outright at his queer plaintive tone and the new class he had placed her in.

Her laugh and his own movement brought Wade fully to himself.  She perceived that his look was transferring her from the order of scalping squaws to her proper place as a beautiful young woman of the highest civilization, not smeared with vermilion, but blushing celestial rosy.

“Thank you,” said Wade.  “I can sit up now without assistance.”  And he regretted profoundly that good breeding obliged him to say so.

She withdrew her arms.  He rested on the ice,—­posture of the Dying Gladiator.  She made an effort to be cool and distant as usual; but it would not do.  This weak mighty man still interested her.  It was still her business to be strength to him.

He made a feeble attempt to wipe away the drops of blood from his forehead with his handkerchief.

“Let me be your surgeon!” said she.

She produced her own folded handkerchief,—­M.  D. were the initials in the corner,—­and neatly and tenderly turbaned him.

Wade submitted with delight to this treatment.  A tumble with such trimmings was luxury indeed.

“Who would not break his head,” he thought, “to have these delicate fingers plying about him, and this pure, noble face so close to his?  What a queenly indifferent manner she has!  What a calm brow!  What honest eyes!  What a firm nose!  What equable cheeks!  What a grand indignant mouth!  Not a bit afraid of me!  She feels that I am a gentleman and will not presume.”

“There!” said she, drawing back.  “Is that comfortable?”

“Luxury!” he ejaculated with fervor.

“I am afraid I am to blame for your terrible fall.”

“No,—­my own clumsiness and that oar-blade are in fault.”

“If you feel well enough to be left alone, I will skate off and call my friends.”

“Please do not leave me quite yet!” says Wade, entirely satisfied with the tete-a-tete.

“Ah! here comes Mr. Skerrett round the Point!” she said,—­and sprang up, looking a little guilty.