ther unopened mail, in his Bainbridge office.

If Benis were married, then the bride could be no other than the
nurse-secretary he had written about in that one inconsequent letter to
which he, Rogers, had replied with unmistakable warning. But the thing
seemed scarcely credible. If it were a fact, then it might very easily
be a tragedy also. Marriage in such haste and under such circumstances
could scarcely be other than a mistake, and considering the quality of
Benis Spence, a most serious one.

John Rogers was very fond of his eccentric friend and the threatened
disaster loomed almost personal. He felt himself to blame too, for the
advice which had thrown Spence directly from the frying-pan of Aunt
Caroline into the fire of a sterner fate. Add to all this a keen
feeling of unwarranted intrusion and we have some idea of the state of
mind with which Dr. John Rogers saw the white tents of the campers as
the steamer put in at Friendly Bay.

"There are two tents," said Aunt Caroline lowering her lorgnette. "I
shall be quite comfortable."

The doctor did not smile. His sense of humor was suffering from
temporary exhaustion and his strongest consciousness was a feeling of
relief that neither Benis nor anyone else appeared to notice their
arrival. Even the unique spectacle of a middle-aged lady in
elastic-sided boots proceeding on tiptoe, and with all the tactics of a
scouting party, toward the evidently deserted tents provoked no
demonstration from anyone.

"They're not here!" called the scouting party in a carrying whisper.

"Obviously not." The doctor wiped his heated fore-head. "Probably
they've gone for the night. Then you'll have to marry me to save my
reputation."

"Jokes upon serious subjects are in very bad taste, young man," said
Aunt Caroline. But her rebuke was half-hearted. She looked uneasy.
"John," she added with sudden suspicion, "you don't suppose they could
have known we were coming?"

"How could they possibly?"

"If she is an Indian, they might. I've heard of such things. I--oh,
John! Look!"

"Snake?" asked John callously. Nevertheless he followed Aunt Caroline's
horrified gaze and saw, with a thrill of more normal interest, a pair
of dainty moccasins whose beaded toes protruded from the flap of one of
the tents.

"Indian!" gasped Aunt Caroline. "Oh John!"

"Not a bit of it!" Our much tried physician spoke with salutary
shortness. "They may be Indian-made but that's all. I'll eat my hat if