"It is impossible. I am speaking of Winnsome. Arbor Croche's house is in the heart of the town and guarded by dogs. I doubt if she would go, anyway. She has always been like a little sister to Marion and me and she has come to believe--something--as we do. I hate to leave her." "Obadiah told me about her mother," ventured Nathaniel. "He said that some day Winnsome will be a queen." "I knew her mother," replied Neil, as though he had not heard Nathaniel's last words. He looked frankly into the other's face. "I worshipped her!" "Oh-h-h!" "From a distance," he hastened. "She was as pure as Winnsome is now. Little Winn looks like her. Some day she will be as beautiful." "She is beautiful now." "But she is a mere child. Why, it seems only a year ago that I was toting her about on my shoulders! And--by George, that was a year before her mother died! She is sixteen now." Nathaniel laughed softly. "To-morrow she will be making love, Neil, and before you know it she will be married and have a family of her own. I tell you she is a woman--and if you are not a fool you will take her away with Marion." With a powerful stroke of his paddle Neil brought the canoe in to the shore. "There!" he whispered. "You have only to cross this point to reach your boat." He stretched out his long arm and in the silence the two shook hands. "If you should happen to think of a way--that we might get Winnsome--" he added, coloring. The sudden grip of his companion's fingers made him flinch. "We must!" said Nathaniel.