un behind her
to the right. Arguing to herself that some wild-fowler on the water
must have fired it who would be able to direct her, she turned the
canoe round and paddled swiftly in the direction whence the sound came.
Presently she heard the gun again; both barrels were fired, in there to
the right, but some way off. She paddled on vigorously, but now no more
shots came to guide her, therefore for a while her search was fruitless.
At last, however, she saw something looming through the mist ahead; it
was the Red Rocks, though she did not know it, and she drew near with
caution till Geoffrey's shout broke upon her ears.

She picked up the dead bird and paddled towards the dim figure who was
evidently wrestling with something, she could not see what.

"Here is the curlew, sir," she said.

"Oh, thank you," answered the figure on the rock. "I am infinitely
obliged to you. I was just going to swim for it, I can't bear losing my
game. It seems so cruel to shoot birds for nothing."

"I dare say that you will not make much use of it now that you have
got it," said the gentle voice in the canoe. "Curlew are not very good
eating."

"That is scarcely the point," replied the Crusoe on the rock. "The point
is to bring them home. _Apres cela----_"

"The birdstuffer?" said the voice.

"No," answered Crusoe, "the cook----"

A laugh came back from the canoe--and then a question.

"Pray, Mr. Bingham, can you tell me where I am? I have quite lost my
reckoning in the mist."

He started. How did this mysterious young lady in a boat know his name?

"You are at the Red Rocks; there is the bell, that grey thing,
Miss--Miss----"

"Beatrice Granger," she put in hastily. "My father is the clergyman of
Bryngelly. I saw you when you and Lady Honoria Bingham looked into the
school yesterday. I teach in the school." She did not tell him, however,
that his face had interested her so much that she had asked his name.

Again he started. He had heard of this young lady. Somebody had told him
that she was the prettiest girl in Wales, and the cleverest, but that
her father was not a gentleman.

"Oh," he said, taking off his hat in the direction of the canoe. "Isn't
it a little risky, Miss Granger, for you to be canoeing alone in this
mist?"

"Yes," she answered frankly, "but I am used to it; I go out canoeing in
all possible weathers. It is my amusement, and after all the risk does
not matter much," she added, more to herself than to