"Oh, we ain’t no ways near thar yet," said Haller, with another chuckle. He raised a lantern and showed them "The Indiana" waiting at the dock, the lake lapping against her sides. "Must we get in that?" said Stafford, peering out into the darkness of the lake. "Waal, yes; if you want ter go to Camp Indiana. It’s at the far end of the lake." "Camp Indiana!" repeated Lord Canning to himself. "After _her_, of course. They have a curious faculty over here, of naming people after places and _vice versa_." "What sort of a boat is this ’ere, my man?" asked Flash, after they were installed and on their way. "Naptha launch." "No danger of explosion?" he asked, cheerily. "Waal, yer never can tell—yer never can tell." Lord Canning laughed heartily. As they puffed along, the wind commenced to wail dismally, echoed by the mountains, until it seemed as though a pack of wild beasts were howling in the night. At intervals a camp fire enlivened the prospect, blazing cheerily down on the shore. The shadow-dance of the flames on the water, together with the outlines of human forms feeding the fire, produced a fantastic effect on the travellers. At Camp Indiana an enormous fire had been kindled to welcome the guests. The boat-house was lit up with different colored lanterns. Haller shouted as they passed in the dock, and was answered by William, who hurried down and assisted the disembarking. Haller, holding the lantern, lit them up to the camp. A flood of light streamed from the open door, in which Mrs. Bunker stood. "Well, here you are at last—so glad to see you." She shook hands with them vigorously. "My man Flash," said Lord Stafford. "Kitty, show Mr. Flash the gentlemen’s rooms. What a nuisance the train was late. The world stops when one comes up here." Mrs. Stillwater met them in the hall. "I’m so pleased you have come," she said in her soft gracious voice. "Thank you, Mrs. Stillwater." "How do you do, Lord Canning?" said Indiana with a hearty shake of the hand. "Too bad the train was late. It’s what you must expect in these primitive parts." Lord Canning looked about him, receiving the impression of warmth, light and luxury, but no sign of primitiveness. Coming out of the darkness and the wind, into the brilliant hall, he was a little dazzled, and for the moment was at a loss for something to say to Indiana. He stared at the brilliant little figure standing near the fire, the flames reflecting red lights from her dress on her laughing face and her yellow hair, with the Persian rug for a background. "An Arabian night’s vision," he thought. "It’s a tedious trip," said Indiana. "You must be starved to death." "I am so interested in my surroundings, that I can plead no sense of fatigue," answered Lord Canning. "This is a jolly fire," said Lord Stafford. "It’s like a glimpse of heaven here, after that awful black night."