men--only women whose beaux left 'em to follow after you.
That's nothing, an' they'll be your friends fast enough after you're
married tomorrow."

"I ain't going to be married to-morrow. I'm going down to Bindon
to-night. If Jake's mad, then it's all over, and there'll be more
trouble among the women up here."

By this time they had entered the other room. The old man saw the white
petticoat on the chair. "No woman in the mountains ever had a petticoat
like that, Jinny. It'd make a dress, it's that pretty an' neat. Golly,
I'd like to see it on you, with the blue skirt over, and just hitched up
a little."

"Oh, shut up--shut up!" she said in sudden anger, and caught up the
petticoat as though she would put it away; but presently she laid it
down again and smoothed it with quick, nervous fingers. "Can't you talk
sense and leave my clothes alone? If Jake comes, and I'm not here, and
he wants to make a fuss, and spoil everything, and won't wait, you give
him this petticoat. You put it in his arms. I bet you'll have the laugh
on him. He's got a temper."

"So've you, Jinny, dear, so've you," said the old man, laughing. "You're
goin' to have your own way, same as ever--same as ever."

II

A moon of exquisite whiteness silvering the world, making shadows on the
water as though it were sunlight and the daytime, giving a spectral look
to the endless array of poplar trees on the banks, glittering on the
foam of the rapids. The spangling stars made the arch of the sky like
some gorgeous chancel in a cathedral as vast as life and time. Like the
day which was ended, in which the mountain-girl had found a taste of
Eden, it seemed too sacred for mortal strife. Now and again there came
the note of a night-bird, the croak of a frog from the shore; but the
serene stillness and beauty of the primeval North was over all.

For two hours after sunset it had all been silent and brooding, and then
two figures appeared on the bank of the great river. A canoe was softly
and hastily pushed out from its hidden shelter under the overhanging
bank, and was noiselessly paddled out to midstream, dropping down the
current meanwhile.

It was Jenny Long and the man who must get to Bindon. They had waited
till nine o'clock, when the moon was high and full, to venture forth.
Then Dingley had dropped from her bedroom window, had joined her under
the trees, and they had sped away, while the man's hunters, who had
come suddenly, and before Jenny cou