had worn from Sherrill's, and emerged from the tent.

It was early morning. A fresh fire was crackling merrily about a pot
of coffee. Beyond through the trees a river of swollen amber laughed
in the morning sunlight under a cloudless sky. The ridge of a distant
woodland was deeply golden, the rolling meadow lands of clover beyond
the river bright with iridescent dew. But the storm had left its trail
of broken rush and grasses and the heavy boughs of the woodland dripped
forgotten rain.

A girl presently emerged from the trees by the river and swung lightly
up the forest path, her scarlet sweater a vivid patch in the lesser
life and color all about her.

[Illustration: Diane swung lightly up the forest path.]

"Surely," she exclaimed, meeting Philip's glance with one of frank and
very pleasant concern, "surely you must be very weak! Why not stay in
bed and let Johnny bring your breakfast to you?"

"Lord, no!" protested Philip, reddening. "I feel ever so much better
than I look."

"I'm glad of that," said Diane, smiling. "You lost a lot of blood and
bumped your head dreadfully on a jagged rock. Would you mind," her
wonderful black eyes met his in a glance of frank inquiry, "would you
mind--explaining? There was so much excitement and storm last night
that we haven't the slightest notion what happened."

"Neither have I!" exclaimed Philip ruefully.

The girl's eyes widened.

"How very singular!" she said.

"It is indeed!" admitted Philip.

"You must be an exceedingly hapless young man!" she commented with
serious disapproval. "I imagine your life must be a monotonous round
of disaster and excitement!"

"Fortuitously," owned Philip, "it's improving!"

Piqued by his irresistible good humor in adversity, Diane eyed him
severely.

"Are you so in the habit of being mysteriously stabbed in the shoulder
whenever it storms," she demanded with mild sarcasm, "that you can
retain an altogether pernicious good humor?"

Philip's eyes glinted oddly.

"I'm a mere novice," he admitted lightly. "If my shoulder didn't throb
so infernally," he added thoughtfully, "I'd lose all faith in the
escapade--it's so weird and mysterious. A crackle--a lunge--a knife in
the dark--and behold! I am here, exceedingly grateful and hungry
despite the melodrama."

To which Diane, raising beautifully arched and wondering eyebrows, did
not reply. Philip, furtively marking the firm brown throat above the
scarlet sweater, an