“Not this evening,” was the reply.  “Your father may come at any minute, and it would not do for both of us to be away from the house.”

Sconda’s eyes brightened as Glen came down to the wharf and asked him to take her out upon the water. The Frontiersman, the name of the motor-boat, was the pride of Sconda’s heart.  When he had been appointed captain of the craft, his highest ambition was reached.  This, together with the fact that he was the special guardian of the Big Chief’s daughter, gave him a high standing in the camp.  No one knew the waters of the north better than did he, and Jim Weston’s mind was always easy when Glen was with him.

In a few minutes The Frontiersman was cutting through the water out into the open.  Sconda was at the wheel, with Glen by his side, while Taku, an Indian with special mechanical gifts, looked after the engine.

“Which way?” Sconda at length asked, after they had run out of the sheltered creek into the main body of water.

“Up-stream,” Glen replied.  “Daddy came down the Tasan once on a raft, and he had a hard time getting home.  He may be coming that way now, so we may be able to pick him up.”

Sconda at once gave the wheel a sharp turn to the left, and the boat swinging obediently to its master’s will, rushed rapidly forward.  A stiff breeze was now blowing dead ahead, and this Glen thoroughly enjoyed.  It suited her nature, especially this evening, and she longed for a tempest to sweep upon them.  Adventure and excitement she dearly enjoyed, and she had often bewailed the fact that she was a woman and not a man.

“Women are supposed to be demure quiet creatures,” she had more than once declared.  “They are not supposed to run any risks, but must stay safely in the house.  That may satisfy some, but it does not suit me.”

Her father and Nannie had always smiled at these outbursts of impatience, thinking that as she grew older her mind would change, and she would see things in a different light.  But Glen did not change, and the longing for adventure was as strong in her heart now as ever.  The sweep of the wind this evening not only tossed her hair but thrilled her very being, and for the first time since her return home she felt how good it was to live in such a place.

For about half an hour they sped onward, with the wind steadily increasing.

“Big blow soon,” Sconda casually remarked, as he glanced at the heavy clouds massing over the mountains.  Then he gave a start, and peered keenly forward.  His eyes had caught sight of something unusual.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the left.

Glen’s eyes followed his outstretched arm, and presently she was enabled to detect a dark object upon the water.

“It’s only a stick, isn’t it, Sconda?”

“No; it’s a raft,” was the reply.  “There’s something on it.”

“Oh; maybe it’s daddy!” Glen exclaimed, now thoroughly aroused.  “Make the boat go faster.  He will be swamped by these waves!”