"Either that—or—it might be the spirit of some unhappy Indian maiden, a heroine of one of the legends of this region. Ah, the sun is coming out—now we shall see her disappear!" On the contrary, the sun striking through the mist revealed Indiana paddling a red canoe. Bareheaded, the sleeves of her red blouse rolled above the elbow, the sun caught her in a sudden flash of scarlet and gold, so that she seemed an apotheosis in the cloud, of Lord Canning’s Indian maiden. "It’s Miss Stillwater!" cried his uncle. "Ha, ha, ha—you with your dreams and your Indian maidens." Lord Canning rubbed his eyes, watching Indiana paddle toward the boathouse with swift, unerring strokes. "Let us go down and meet her!" he said. "Good morning, gentlemen!" exclaimed Mrs. Bunker, joining them, as they descended. "How did you sleep last night?" "Extremely well, thank you, my dear lady," answered Lord Stafford. "I cannot speak for my nephew, he is addicted to dreams. Ha, ha, ha. That sort of sleeper is always rather restless. Don’t you think so, Mrs. Bunker?" "This," said Lord Canning, indicating the prospect, "is very charming, quite unique in its way. I really cannot remember seeing anything like it." Lord Stafford slipped. "Be careful, Lord Stafford. It’s the pine needles. They fall year after year. You see how soft and yielding they make the ground. But it’s slippery on an incline." They reached the boat-house in time to see Indiana jump from her canoe. "An extremely picturesque little craft," said Lord Canning, after they had exchanged the morning greetings. "Birch bark," said Indiana. "There’s another here." "Ah, a white one. But this red canoe is very effective on the lake. We were quite startled, when you first appeared. Were we not, Uncle?" "Ha, ha, ha, ha. My nephew thought you were the spirit of some Indian maiden, who had died a tragic death." "You glided out of the mist in such a wraith-like fashion," said Lord Canning. "There was an Indian maiden"— "Oh, keep those ghost stories for the camp fire, Indiana! Before breakfast is no time for them." "Don’t forget, please, Miss Stillwater!" said Lord Canning. "Positively at the camp fire to-night." "At the camp fire to-night," repeated Indiana, in a tragic voice. "Oh, Indiana can tell you any number of legends about these parts. She picks them up from the guides," said Mrs. Bunker. "I am always interested in the legends of a country. There is so much to be gleaned from them." "Exactly, Lord Canning," said Mrs. Bunker. "That’s what I think." "I shall look forward to hearing them all, Miss Stillwater," said Lord Canning, "by the camp fire of course. Every night a story." "Like Scheherezade in the Arabian Nights," said Indiana, "amusing the sultan to save her head." "Ha, ha, ha, ha. Quite so, Miss Stillwater," laughed Lord Canning.