"I am not asking you about--about Mr. Overton's affairs," she said, and she sat down, white and dizzy, on the overturned canoe. "And he might not like it if he knew you were talking so free. Don't do it again." "All right," he agreed. "I won't. No one here seems to know about the bad break he made over there; but, Lord! there was excuse enough. She is one of those women that look just like a little helpless baby; and that caught Overton. Young, you know. But I won't whisper her name in camp again, for it is hard on the old man. But, as you are partners, I guessed you must know." "Yes," she said, faintly; "but don't talk, don't--" "Say! You are sick, ain't you?" he demanded, as her voice dropped to a whisper. "Say! Look here, Miss Rivers! Great snakes! She's fainted!" When she opened her eyes again, the rough roof of her cabin was above her, instead of the blue sky. The women folks were using the camp restorative--whisky--on her to such good purpose that her hands and face and hair were redolent of it, and the amount she had been forced to swallow was strangling her. The face she saw first was that of Max--Max, distressed and anxious, and even a little pale at sight of her death-like face. She turned to him as to a haven of refuge from the storm of emotion under which she had fallen prostrate. It was all settled now--settled forever. She had heard the worst, and knew she must go away--away from where she must see that one man, and be filled with humiliation if ever she met his gaze. A man with a wife somewhere--a man into whose arms she had crept! "Are you in pain?" asked Miss Lavina, as 'Tana groaned and shut her eyes tight, as if to bar out memory. "No--nothing ails me. I was without a hat, and the sun on my head made me sick, I suppose," she answered, and arose on her elbow. "But I am not going to be a baby, to be watched and carried around any more. I am going to get up." Just outside her door Overton stood; and when he heard her voice again, with its forced independent words, he walked away content that she was again herself. "I am going to get up," she continued. "I am going away from here to-morrow or next day--and there are things to do. Help me, Max." "Best thing you can do is to lie still an hour or two," advised Mrs. Huzzard, but the girl shook her head. "No, I'm going to get up," she said, with grim decision; and when Lyster offered his hand to help her, she took it, and, standing erect, looked around at the couch. "That is the last time I'm going to be thrown on you for any such fool cause," she said, whimsically. "Who toted me in here--you?" "I? Not a bit of it," confessed Lyster. "Dan reached you before any of the others knew you were ill. He carried you up here." "He? Oh!" and she shivered a little. "I want to talk to Harris. Max, come with me."