we are here," she said,
doubtfully.

"Exactly; it is what I most desired," said the lieutenant, gallantly.

Scores of rafts lay moored along the wharves and shore, and hundred
of lumbermen were to be seen everywhere, not only on the timber and
wharves, but crowding the streets and the doors of the little saloons.

For half an hour they walked along, watching the men at work with the
timber on the river. Some were loading the vessels lying at anchor, some
were shifting the loose timber about. When they reached the end of the
last wharf, they saw a strapping young lumberman, in a shanty costume
that showed signs of the woods, running some loose sticks of timber
round the end of the raft. With great skill he was handling his pike,
walking the big sticks and running lightly over the timber too small to
carry him, balancing himself on a single stick while he moved the timber
to the bit of open water behind the raft, and all with a grace and
dexterity that excited Kate's admiration to the highest degree.

"Rather clever, that," said the lieutenant, lazily. "Hello! close call,
that; ha! bravo!" It was not often the lieutenant allowed himself the
luxury of excitement, but the lumberman running his timber slipped his
pike pole and found himself balancing on the edge of open water. With a
mighty spring he cleared the open space, touched a piece of small timber
that sank under him, and at the next spring landed safe on the raft.
Maimie's scream sounded with the lieutenant's "bravo." At the cry the
young fellow looked up. It was Ranald.

"Hello, there!" cried Harry; and with an answering shout, Ranald, using
his pike as a jumping-pole, cleared the open space, ran lightly over the
floating sticks, and with another spring reached the shore. Without a
moment's hesitation he dropped his pole and came almost running toward
them, his face radiant with delight.

"Maimie!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand, wet and none too clean.

"How do you do?" said Maimie. She had noticed the look of surprise and
mild disgust on the lieutenant's face, and she was embarrassed. Ranald
was certainly not lovely to look at. His shirt was open at the neck,
torn, and dirty. His trousers and boots were much the worse of their
struggle with the bush.

"This is Mr. Macdonald, Lieutenant De Lacy," Maimie hurried to say. The
lieutenant offered a limp hand.

"Chawmed, I'm suah," he murmured.

"What?" said Ranald.

"Lovely weather," murmured the lieu