"Been twice. We're not strong on trips up here. Grand-dad goes to Vancouver and Victoria once in a while. Grandmother's been here twenty years and never been five miles from the ranch, 'cept once, and she's sorry now for that once. "Joe's the one that gets all the trips. You ain't met Joe. Guess when you do you and him won't hit it. He always fights with men of your size and build." "Who is this Joe?" I asked. "He must be quite a man-eater." "I ain't going to tell you any more. You'll know him when you see him. "I'm going now. Would you like some fish? The trout were biting good this morning. I've got more'n we need." We went down to the shore together. There were between thirty and forty beauties of sea-trout in the bottom of her boat. She handed me out a dozen. "Guess that'll make a square meal for you and Jake." Then she looked at me and laughed, showing her teeth. "Clean forgot," she said. "A swimming man ain't no good at carrying fish." "Why not?" I asked. I picked up some loose cord from her boat, strung the trout by the gills and tied them securely round my waist. She watched me archly and a thought went flashing through my mind that it did not need the education of the city to school a woman in the art of using her eyes. "Guess I'll see you off the premises first, before I go." "All right!" said I. We crossed the Island once more, and I got on to a rock which dipped sheer and deep into the sea. She held out her hand and smiled in such a bewitching way that, had I not been a well-seasoned bachelor of almost twenty-five years' standing, I should have lost my heart to her completely. "Good-bye! Mister,--Mister Bremner. Safe home." "Good-bye! Miss--Rita." "Sure you can make it?" she asked earnestly. "Yes!" I cried, and plunged in. As I came up, I turned and waved my hand. She waved in answer, and when I looked again she was gone. I struck swiftly for the wharf, allowing for the incoming tide. When I was half-way across, I heard the sound of oars and, on taking a backward glance, I saw Rita making toward me. "Hello!" I cried, when she drew near. "What's the matter?" A little shame-faced, she bent over. "I got scared," she said timidly, "scared you mightn't make it. Sure you don't want me to row you in?" The boat was alluring, but my pride was touched. "Quite sure," I answered. "I'm as fresh as the trout round my waist. Thanks all the same." "All right! Guess I was foolish. You ain't a man; you're a porpoise." With this half-annoyed sally, she swung the bow of the boat and rowed away. CHAPTER XI An Informative Visitor That afternoon, prompt at two o'clock, a whistle sounded beyond the point and, shortly afterwards, the steamboat _Siwash_, north bound, entered the Bay. Jake and I were waiting at the end of the wharf, seated in a large, wide-beamed, four-oared boat, with Mike, the dog,--still eyeing me suspiciously,--crouching between his master's feet.