ures are not the thing for a woman.

"Yis, mahm," he answered, pushing hard with the paddle. "Yer a
friend o' the cap'n, ain't ye--Ray Bell?"

"Ze captain? Ah, oui, m'sieu'," I said. "One ver' brave man,
ain't it?"

"Yis, mahm," said he, soberly and with emphasis. "He 's more 'n a
dozen brave men, thet's whut he is. He's a joemightyful cuss.
Ain't nuthin' he can't dew--spryer 'n a painter, stouter 'n a
moose, an' treemenjous with a sword."

The moon sank low, peering through distant tree-columns, and went
out of sight. Long stubs of dead pine loomed in the dim, golden
afterglow, their stark limbs arching high in the heavens--like
mullions in a great Gothic window.

"When we git nigh shore over yender," said my companion, "don't
believe we better hev a grea' deal t' say. I ain't a-goin' t' be
tuk--by a jugful--not ef I can help it. Got me 'n a tight place
one night here 'n Canady."

"Ah, m'sieu', in Canada! How did you get out of it?" I queried.

"Slipped out," said he, shaking the canoe with suppressed laughter.
"Jes' luk a streak o' greased lig-htnin'," he added presently.

"The captain he seems ver' anxious for me to mak' great hurry," I
remarked.

"No wonder; it's his lady-love he 's efter--faster 'n a weasel t'
see 'er," said he, snickering.

"Good-looking?" I queried.

"Han'some es a pictur'," said he, soberly.

In a moment he dragged his paddle, listening.

"Thet air's th' shore over yender," he whispered. "Don't say a
word now. I 'll put ye right on the p'int o' rocks. Creep 'long
careful till ye git t' th' road, then turn t' th' left, the cap'n
tol' me."

When I stepped ashore my dress caught the gunwale and upset our
canoe. The good man rolled noisily into the water, and rose
dripping. I tried to help him.

"Don't bother me--none," he whispered testily, as if out of
patience, while he righted the canoe.

When at last he was seated again, as I leaned to shove him off, he
whispered in a compensating, kindly manner: "When ye 're goin'
ashore, an' they 's somebody 'n the canoe, don't never try t' tek
it with ye 'less ye tell 'im yer goin' tew."

There was a deep silence over wood and water, but he went away so
stealthily I could not hear the stir of his paddle. I stood
watching as he dimmed off in the darkness, going quickly out of
sight. Then I crept over the rocks and through a thicket,
shivering, for the night had grown chilly. I snagged my dress on a
brier every step, a