to draw the automatic at his side and leap into battle with a dozen of his kind he would not have been surprised.  He had expected something like that.  But this other—­her first demand upon him!  What could it mean?  Shrouded in mystery, bound by his oath of honour to make no effort to uncover her secret, he was to accompany her back to her home as her husband!  And after that—­at the end—­he was to go out into the forest, and die—­for her, for all who had known him.  He wondered if she had meant these words literally, too.  He smiled, and slowly his eyes scanned the lake.  He was already beginning to reason, to guess at the mystery which she had told him he could not unveil if he lived a thousand years.  But he could at least work about the edges of it.

Suddenly he concentrated his gaze at a point on the lake three quarters of a mile away.  It was close to shore, and he was certain that he had seen some movement there—­a flash of sunlight on a shifting object.  Probably he had caught a reflection of light from the palmate horn of a moose feeding among the water-lily roots.  He leaned forward, and shaded his eyes.  In another moment his heart gave a quicker throb.  What he had seen was the flash of a paddle.  He made out a canoe, and then two.  They were moving close in-shore, one following the other, and apparently taking advantage of the shadows of the forest.  Philip’s hand shifted to the butt of his automatic.  After all there might be fighting of the good old-fashioned kind.  He looked back in the direction of the tent.

The girl had reappeared, and was looking at him.  She waved a hand, and he ran down to meet her.  She had been crying.  The dampness of tears still clung to her lashes; but the smile on her lips was sweet and welcoming, and now, so frankly that his face burned with pleasure, she held out a hand to him.

“I was rude to run away from you in that way,” she apologized.  “But I couldn’t cry before you.  And I wanted to cry.”

“Because you were glad, or sorry?” he asked.

“A little of both,” she replied.  “But mostly glad.  A few hours ago it didn’t seem possible that there was any hope for me.  Now—­”

“There is hope,” he urged.

“Yes, there is hope.”

For an instant he felt the warm thrill of her fingers as they clung tighter to his.  Then she withdrew her hand, gently, smiling at him with sweet confidence.  Her eyes were like pure, soft violets.  He wanted to kneel at her feet, and cry out his thanks to God for sending him to her.  Instead of betraying his emotion, he spoke of the canoes.

“There are two canoes coming along the shore of the lake,” he said.  “Are you expecting some one?”

The smile left her lips.  He was startled by the suddenness with which the colour ebbed from her face and the old fear leapt back into her eyes.

“Two?  You are sure there are two?” Her fingers clutched his arm almost fiercely.  “And they are coming this way?”