With this shock she wakened, but the song had ceased. She waited in silence, hoping to hear it again. When fully aroused to her surroundings, she was convinced that she had dreamed the music as well as the hand-clasp, and a flush ran over her. "Why should I dream in that way of _him_?" She heard the soft lisp of moccasined feet outside the tent, and immediately after the sound of an axe. Presently the fire began to crackle, and the rising sun threw a flood of golden light against the canvas wall. Jennie lifted her arms and yawned, and at last sat up and listened. Catching Elsie's eye she said: "Good-morning, dear. How did you sleep?" "Deliciously--but did you hear some one singing just before sunrise?" "No--did you?" "I thought I did; but perhaps I dreamed it." "Where did it seem to come from?" "Oh, from away off and high up--the saddest song--a phrase constantly repeated." "Oh, I know. It was some young Tetong lover playing the flute. They often do that when the girls are going for water in the morning. Isn't it beautiful?" "I never heard anything so sad." "All their songs are sad. George says the primitive love-songs of all races are the same. But Two Horns has the fire going, and I must get up and superintend breakfast. You need not rise till I call." Mrs. Parker began to stir. "Jerome! What time is it?" The girls laughed as Jerome, in the other tent, replied, sweetly: "Time to arise, Honey Plum." Mrs. Parker started up and stared around, her eyes still misty with slumber. "I slept the whole night through," she finally remarked, as if in answer to a question, and her voice expressed profound astonishment. "Didn't hear the wolves, did you, pet?" called Parker. "Wolves! No. Did they howl?" "Howl is no name for it. They tied themselves into double bow-knots of noise." "I don't believe it." Elsie replied: "I didn't hear anything but the music. Did you hear the singing?" Lawson spoke. "You people have the most active imaginations. All I heard was the wind in the pines, and an occasional moose walking by." "Moose!" cried Mrs. Parker. "Why, they're enormous creatures." Jennie began to laugh. "You people will need to hurry to be ready for breakfast. I'm going to put the coffee on." She slipped outside. "Oh, girls! Get up at once, it's glorious out here on the lake!" Curtis was busy about the camp-fire. "Good-morning, sis. Here are some trout for breakfast." "Trout!" shouted Lawson, from the tent. "Trout!" echoed Parker. "We'll be there," and the tent bulged and flapped with his hasty efforts at dressing. In gay spirits they gathered round their rude table, Parker and Jennie particularly jocular. Curtis was puzzled by some subtle change in Elsie. Her gaze was not quite so frank, and her color seemed a little more fitful; but she was as merry as a child, and enjoyed every makeshift as though it were done for the first time and for her own amusement. "What's the programme for to-day?" asked Parker.