“Ah, and I’m lawless!” cried Io.  “I could defy the gods on a night like this!”

She flung her arms aloft, in a movement of sweet, wild abandon, and, as if in response to an incantation, the sky was reft asunder and the moon rushed forth, free for the moment of the clutching clouds, fugitive, headlong, a shining Maenad of the heavens, surrounded by the rush and whirl that had whelmed earth and its waters and was hurrying them to an unknown, mad destiny.

“Now we can see our way,” said Banneker, the practical.

He studied the few rods of sleek, foamless water between him and the farther bank, and, going to the steel boat which Mindle had brought to the place on the hand car, took brief inventory of its small cargo.  Satisfied, he turned to load in Io’s few belongings.  He shipped the oars.

“I’ll let her go stem-first,” he explained; “so that I can see what we’re coming to and hold her if there’s trouble.”

“But can you see?” objected Miss Van Arsdale, directing a troubled look at the breaking sky.

“If we can’t, we’ll run her ashore until we can.”

He handed Io the flashlight and the map.

“You’ll want me in the bow seat if we’re traveling reversed,” said she.

He assented.  “Good sailorwoman!”

“I don’t like it,” protested Miss Van Arsdale.  “It’s a mad business.  Ban, you oughtn’t to take her.”

“It’s too late to talk of that,” said Io.

“Ready?” questioned Banneker.

“Yes.”

He pushed the stern of the boat into the stream, and the current laid it neatly and powerfully flat to the sheer bank.  Io kissed Camilla Van Arsdale quickly and got in.

“We’ll wire you from Miradero,” she promised.  “You’ll find the message in the morning.”

The woman, mastering herself with a difficult effort, held out her hand to Banneker.

“If you won’t be persuaded,” she said, “then good—­”

“No,” he broke in quickly.  “That’s bad luck.  We shall be all right.”

“Good luck, then,” returned his friend, and turned away into the night.

Banneker, with one foot in the boat, gave a little shove and caught up his oars.  An unseen hand of indeterminable might grasped the keel and moved them quietly, evenly, outward and forward, puppets given into the custody of the unregarding powers.  Oars poised and ready, Ban sat with his back toward his passenger, facing watchfully downstream.

Leaning back into the curve of the bow, Io gave herself up to the pulsing sweep of the night.  Far, far above her stirred a cosmic tumult.  The air might have been filled with vast wings, invisible and incessant in the night of wonders.  The moon plunged headlong through the clouds, now submerged, now free, like a strong swimmer amidst surf.  She moved to the music of a tremendous, trumpeting note, the voice of the unleashed Spring, male and mighty, exulting in his power, while beneath, the responsive, desirous earth thrilled and trembled and was glad.