failed to break through the
blanket of cloud that hung above the great valley. He was a good
boatman, however, as she gathered from the tireless regularity of his
strokes. He was a silent man, too, and she was grateful for that. She
snuggled down into her blanket and tried to sleep, but she only dozed
for a minute, it seemed, to find her eyes fly wide open again. So,
restless and tired of her lonely vigil, she gave a premonitory cough,
and said to her companion:

"You must be tired rowing so steadily?"

"Oh, I don't mind it," he replied.

At the sound of his voice she sat bolt upright. It couldn't be--if this
were Runnion he would have spoken before! She ventured again,
tremulously:

"Have you any idea what time it is?"

"About three o'clock. I fancy."

"Who are you?" The question came like a shot.

"Don't you know?"

"What are YOU doing here, Mr. Runnion?"

"I'm rowing," he answered, carelessly.

"Why didn't you speak?" A vague feeling of uneasiness came over her, a
suspicion that all was not right, so she waited for him to explain, and
when he did not, she repeated her question. "What made you keep still
so long? You knew who _I_ was?"

"Well, it's the first time I ever took you on a midnight row, and I
wanted to enjoy it."

The mockery in his voice quickened her apprehension. Of a sudden the
fear of being misjudged impelled her to end this flight that had become
so distasteful in a moment, preferring to face the people at the post
rather than continue her journey with this man.

"I've changed my mind, Mr. Runnion," she said. "I don't want to go down
to the Mission. I want you to take me back."

"Can't do it," he said; "the current is too swift."

"Then set me ashore and I'll walk back. It can't be far to town."

"Twenty-five miles. We've been out about three hours." He kept on
rowing steadily, and although the distance they had gone frightened
her, she summoned her courage to say:

"We can make that easily enough. Come, run in to the bank."

He ceased rowing and let the boat drift with dragging sweeps, filled
his pipe and lighted it, then took up his oars again and resumed his
labors.

"Please do as I ask you, Mr. Runnion. I've decided I don't want to go
any farther." He laughed, and the sound aroused her. "Put me ashore
this minute!" she cried, indignantly. "What do you mean?"

"You've got a fierce temper, haven't you?"

"Will you do it or not?"

When he made no answer, except to contin