"But I don’t think my stories would last a hundred and one nights, Lord Canning," replied Indiana, putting her hands behind her back, and meeting his persistent gaze mischievously. "Too bad," he answered, contemplatively. "I should hate to cut off that head. Don’t you know anything else appropriate for a camp fire, which might serve to amuse me, and prolong your life. Can you tell fortunes?" "Oh, Indiana’s great at that!" said Mrs. Bunker. "Good—by cards or consulting the palm?" "Both!" said Indiana promptly. "Learned it from the girls at school. I can also tell your fortune in a tea cup." "Indeed, you must initiate me." "Ha, ha, ha, ha—I prophesied you’d come to it—telling fortunes in a tea cup. That’s rich. Mrs. Bunker, I’ll explain to you—later!" "What does he mean?" asked Indiana. "I’ll tell you by the camp fire, Miss Stillwater. Can you interpret dreams?" Lord Stafford laughed with intense enjoyment. "I have a dream book, I’ll study it up." "Well, in view of your many accomplishments, your head will be quite safe." "How about yours?" she said, shyly, bending down to take her jacket from the canoe. "Ha, ha, ha! Quite so, Miss Stillwater." "I’m not sure about mine," he answered, smiling. "And if you lose it?" "The Sultan will meet his fate philosophically, repeating, ’Kismet, and Allah is wise, saith the Prophet.’" "Breakfast is served," exclaimed Kitty, running breathlessly into the boat-house. "You must be hungry," said Mrs. Bunker. "You were up so early. Indiana rises at an unearthly hour, here. She’s on the lake at six, sometimes." "Do not be surprised if you should see me also at that unearthly hour, Miss Stillwater. I, too, have a passion for early rising, in a place like this! There are some beautiful boats here!" "Yes, this is a St. Lawrence. I always take ma out in that. She likes it, because it’s steady. But it don’t run like this one—this is my pet. A real Adirondack cedar wood." "Indiana," read Lord Canning. "Everything here is named after you. You’re the prevailing spirit of the place. Will you take me out on the lake after breakfast, and teach me how to manage an Adirondack boat?" "This is a dangerous lake, Lord Canning," said Mrs. Bunker. "You wouldn’t think so, to look at it now." Lord Canning turned and glanced at the beautiful vista of the lake, sparkling, blue and serene, between the mountains. "A squall can come up, any minute—a regular tornado—and blow you and your shell of a boat to Jericho." "And what would you do, Miss Stillwater," asked Lord Canning, in visible alarm, "if you were out in your little canoe, and were caught in one of these sudden squalls?" "Head for the shore. Besides, I’m a swimmer." "Are you?" She looked very young to him, standing there in her little, short skirt and loose blouse, her hair blowing about in the breeze, which came freshly over the lake. Younger, even, than when he had first seen her.