eyes shone with sudden fear.

"Do you think there is really any danger, Mr. Benson?"

"Danger? Of course there's danger! What did I follow arter that little
boat for, if there wasn't no danger?"

"Perhaps--perhaps," said Agnes tremulously, "it would be safer on shore.
The walk will not be much now. What do you say to running ashore?"

"There'll be a howling among the rocks afore you get round the first
point, that 'ud take your breath; besides, when the winds begin to rush
there'll be a crashing down of trees, and broken limbs will be flying
thick enough. No, no--unsartain as the river is, you'd better keep
still. I don't want your death on my conscience, any how."

"But can you swim if we should capsize?" questioned Agnes, growing pale
and cold.

"Swim, can Ben Benson swim?" cried the boatman with a hoarse laugh.
"Well, I should think that he can swim a trifle."

The girl fixed her black eyes upon him. They were large and bright with
terror.

"Fast, pull fast," she said, "let me help you--is there anything in
which I can help you? How slow the boat goes--pull, pull!"

"We are agin the wind, and it's getting strongish," answered Ben.

"What can we do?" cried out the girl clasping her hands. "Hear how it
howls--how the trees begin to moan! Is not the storm at its height now?"

"You'll see by and by," said Ben, bowing his moist forehead down to the
sleeve of his jacket, and wiping away the perspiration that was now
falling from it like rain.

"Oh, what will become of us?" shrieked the girl.

"What has become of _her_?" echoed Ben, casting sharp despairing glances
toward the shore, which was now darkened, and in a turmoil.

"There is my home--there, there, on the side hill. A light is just
struck in the window. Set me on shore--oh, Mr. Benson, do set me on
shore!"

"Not till I find _her_," answered Ben, resolutely, "you would get in, so
make the best of it."

The girl grew white as death.

"Let me ashore, or it will be my death--I am sick with terror," she
pleaded.

Ben did not appear to listen. He was looking wildly down the stream,
right and left, with despair in his glances.

"Where is she? What can have become of her?" he cried out at last,
sinking forward on his oars, and allowing the boat to struggle for
herself against the wind.

"At home, no doubt," answered the girl, struck with a selfish thought,
in which there was hope of safety.

"How! What?" exclaimed Ben fiercely, "at home!"

"No