The boat was now quite a distance out into the blue waters of the lake, and already Wild Horse Island was in sight. The day was beautifully clear and warm, and only a slight breeze stirred the tiny waves. The boat swung to the left and began to go up the big arm of the Lake, which in itself is a large-sized body of water. At Dayton Creek they waited a few moments while more passengers were taken aboard, and Bess was drawn from her couch to watch some fine horses being taken on the boat. “There is one that looks like Mauchacho,” she said to Mrs. West, whom she thought was standing beside her. “Please, may I talk to you now? There are a number of interesting things which I would like to point out to you, if I may,” said a low voice quite near her. Bess could not resist the little appeal which the tone gave without being rude, and with rather a forced smile she permitted Mr. Davis to stand beside her. “Those horses are being taken to Kalispell for the Fourth of July celebration. They have some good races. Will you be there to see them, Miss—Bess?” “Oh, no! We are only to be there for a day or two. Some of Mrs. West’s friends are coming to the _HW_ Ranch during the July celebration which the Indians are to have. I shall save all my shouts for the races then, you know.” “Presently we shall come to the famous ‘Picture Rocks,’” said Davis, during their conversation. Not a word had he said save some remark about the horses or the scenery, as they passed an interesting place. As the boat neared the rocks it slowed so that the passengers might get a better view of the pictures. Here, on the flat surface of a cliff, which rises abruptly out of the water for a hundred feet, are quaint tracings made by the Indians, many, many, years ago. Horses, deer, moose and other animals are clearly drawn. Numerous lines near a deer record the successful hunt. Several buffalos were clearly outlined and other drawings which could not be defined. How it was possible that these records have stood the ravages of time is not known. Bess was so interested that as the boat resumed its journey she asked Mr. Davis for more information concerning the strange and wonderful pictures. He led her to some comfortable chairs, and so interested did she become in the stories which he told that she almost forgot her chaperon. “Really, I must go and find Mrs. West,” said Bess, as she arose from her seat. “Wait a moment,” ventured Mr. Davis, as he touched her hand restrainingly. “First, I want to ask you, why did you resist me as I came onto the boat? You knew I was near; why did you not turn?” Bess drew her hand from his tightening clasp, and pushing back the hair from her eyes, said: “Because, Mr. Davis, you thought you could make me turn and answer your call, and I wanted you to know that I could control my own will.”