The nearest Gerry had ever come to drowning was when he had fallen asleep lying on his back in the middle of West Lake. Even with a frightened girl clinging to him, it gave him no shock to find himself in the water a quarter of a mile from shore. But with Alix it was different. She gasped, and in consequence gulped down a large mouthful of the lake. Then she broke into hysterical laughter and swallowed more. Gerry held her up, and deliberately slapped her across the mouth. In a flash anger sobered her. Her eyes blazed. “You coward,” she whispered. Gerry’s face was white and stern. “Put one hand on my shoulder and kick with your feet,” he said. “I’ll tow you to shore.” “Put me on Hidden Rock,” said Alix; “I prefer to wait for a boat.” “It will take an hour for a boat to get here,” answered Gerry. “I’m going to tow you in. If you say another word I shall slap you again.” In a dead silence they plowed slowly to shore, and when Gerry found bottom, he stood up, took Alix in his arms, and strode well up the bank before he set her down. During the long swim she had had time to think, but not to forgive. She stamped her sodden feet, shook out her skirts, and then looked Gerry up and down. With his crisp, light hair; blue eyes, wide apart and well open; and six feet of well-proportioned bulk, Gerry was good to look at, but Alix’s angry eyes did not admit it. They measured him scornfully; but it was not the look that hurt him so much as the way she turned from him with a little shrug of dismissal and started along the shore for camp. Gerry reached out and caught hold of her arm. She swung around, her face quite white. “I see,” she said in a low voice, “you want it now.” Gerry held her with his eyes. “Yes,” he answered, “I want it now.” “Why did you yell at me to jump into your horrible boat?” “I took you for Nance.” “You took me for Nance,” repeated Alix with a mimicry and in a tone that left no doubt as to the fact that she was in a nasty temper. “And _why_,” she went on, her eyes blazing and her slight figure trembling, “did you strike me--slap me across the face?” “Because I love you,” replied Gerry, steadily. “Oh!” gasped Alix. Her slate-gray eyes went wide open in unfeigned amazement, and suddenly the tenseness that is the essence of attack went out of her body. Instead of a self-possessed and very angry young woman, she became her natural self--a girl fluttering before her first really thrilling situation. There was something so childlike in her sudden transition that Gerry was moved out of himself. For once he was not slow. He caught hold of her and drew her toward him. But Alix was not to be plucked like a ripe plum. She freed herself gently but firmly, and stood facing him. Then she smiled, and with the smile she gained the upper hand. Gerry suddenly became awkward and painfully aware of his bare arms and legs. He felt exceptionally naked. “When did it begin?” murmured Alix. “What?” said Gerry.