“‘Afraid?’ she repeated.  ‘Afraid—­of you?’ And the way she said it, with a half scornful, half humorous surprise, the sight of her standing there so self-reliant, buoyant, the type of that civilization I had tried so hard to reach, started a reaction of my overstrained nerves.  Still, I think I might have held myself together had I not at that moment caught the voice of that unhappy squaw.  It struck a chill to my bones, and I sank down on the nearest seat and dropped my face in my hands, completely unmanned.

“I knew she came around the table and stood looking me over, but when I finally managed to lift my head, she had gone back to the percolator to bring me a cup of coffee.  It had a pleasant aroma, and the cream with which she cooled it gave it a nice color.  You don’t know how that first draught steadied me.  ‘I am sorry, madam,’ I said, ’but I have had a hard experience in these woods, and I expected to catch the mail boat for Seattle; but that singing down-stream means I am cut off.’

“She started a little and looked me over again with new interest.  ’The squaw,’ she said, ’is mourning for her papoose.  It was a terrible accident.  A young hunter up the Dosewallups, where the Indians were berrying, killed the baby in jumping a log.’

“‘Yes, madam,’ I answered, and rose and put the cup down, ’I am the man.  It is harder breaking trail to the Lilliwaup than coming by canoe, and the Indians have beaten me.  I must double back now to the Duckabush.  By that time, they will have given up the watch.’

“‘Wait,’ she said, ‘let me think.’  But it did not take her long.  A turn the length of the table, and her face brightened.  ’Why, it’s the easiest thing in the world,’ she said.  ‘I must row you to the steamer.’  Then when I hesitated to let her run the risk, she explained that her party had moved their camp from the mouth of the Dosewallups after these Indians arrived there; they knew her; they had seen her rowing about, and she always carried a good many traps; an easel, sun umbrella, cushions, a steamer rug.  I had only to lie down in the bottom of the boat, and she would cover me.  And she drew back the flap of the nearest tent and told me to change my clothes for a brown suit she laid out, and canvas shoes.  ‘Come,’ she urged, ’there’s time enough but none to waste; and any minute the Indians may surprise you.’

“She was waiting with the rug and pillows and a pair of oars when I came out, and helped me carry them to the boat which was beached a short distance below her camp.  When it was launched, and I was stowed under the baggage, with an ample breathing hole through which I could watch the rower, she pushed off and fell into a long, even stroke.  Presently I noticed she had nice eyes, brown and very deep, and I thought her face was beautiful.  It had the expressiveness, the swift intelligence that goes with a strong personality, and through all her determination, I felt a running note of caution.  I knew she