y, whoever he was--a native probably--would, if he saw me, ask
questions concerning my luck, and be almost sure to tell every one he
met. I left my fire unkindled, stepped back to the shade of the bushes
and waited in silence, hoping the driver would go on without stopping.
There was no real road on this side of the pond, but there was an
abandoned wood track, like that by which I had come. The horse was
approaching along the track; the sounds of hoofs and crackling branches
grew plainer.

The odd part of it was that I heard no rattle of wheels. It was almost
as if the person was on horseback. This seemed impossible, because no
one in Denboro or Bayport--no one I could think of, at least--owned or
rode a saddle horse. Yet the hoof beats grew louder and there was no
squeak, or jolt, or rattle to bear them company. They came to a point in
the woods directly opposite where I sat in the shade of the bushes and
there they stopped. Then they recommenced and the crackle of branches
was louder than ever. The rider, whoever he was, was coming down the
bank to the pond.

A moment more and the tall swamp-huckleberry bushes at the edge of
the sandy beach parted and between them stepped gingerly a clean-cut,
handsome brown horse, which threw up its head at the sight of the water
and then trotted lightly toward it. The rider, who sat so easily in the
saddle, was a girl. And the girl was Mabel Colton!

She did not notice me at first, but gave her attention to the horse. The
animal waded into the water to its knees and, in obedience to a pull on
the reins, stopped, bent its head, and began to drink. Then the rider
turned in her seat, looked about her, saw the heap of wood for the fire,
the open lunch basket, the rods and landing-net, and--me.

I had stepped from the bushes when she first appeared and was standing
motionless, staring, I imagine, like what Dorinda sometimes called her
husband--a "born gump." There was Fate in this! no doubt about it. The
further I went to avoid this girl, and the more outlandish and forsaken
the spot to which I fled, the greater the certainty of our meeting.
A feeling of helplessness came over me, as if I were in the clutch of
destiny and no effort of mine could break that clutch.

For a moment she looked as if she might be thinking the same thing. She
started when she saw me and her lips parted.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, softly. Then we gazed at each other without
speaking.

She was the first to rec