"You don't need to," he said gently. "I can take you in over the side. Here, Fred, come round and help." Fred came to her, and Roderick slipped down into the bottom of the canoe. He leaned heavily to the side opposite the girl, and extended his hand. "Now, you can do it quite easily," he said encouragingly. "Catch the thwart; there--no, sideways--that's it! Steady, Fred, don't hurry her. There you are. Now!" She had rolled in somehow over the side, and sat soaked and heavy, half-laughing and half-tearful, right at his feet. "Oh," she said, "I'm making you all wet." "Well, that's the neatest ever," cried Fred Hamilton in involuntary admiration. The work of emptying the other canoe, with the help of such an expert, was an easy matter. When it was ready Roderick held it while Fred tumbled in. Stray cushions and paddles, and even an armful of soaking golden-rod were rescued, and then the two young men looked involuntarily at the girl. "Hop over the fence, Leslie!" cried Fred. He was in high good humour now, for Rod McRae would never tell on a fellow, or chaff him in public about an upset. But Leslie Graham shook her head. Something strange had happened, she had grown very quiet and grave. "No," she said in a low voice, "I don't want any more adventures to-night. You'll take me home, won't you--Roderick?" She hesitated just a moment over the name, but remembering she had called him that at school, she ventured. "It would give me the greatest pleasure," he cried cordially. His diffidence had all vanished, he was master of the situation. He glanced half-enquiringly at the other young man, to see relief expressed quite frankly on his face. "All right, Leslie! Thanks ever so, Rod. I can scoot over to the boathouse and get some dry togs, before I go home. And say--you won't say anything about this now, Les, will you?" The girl's spirits were returning. "Why not?" she asked teasingly. "It wouldn't be fair to keep such a gallant rescue a secret." "Oh, please don't!" cried Roderick in dismay. "But it would make such a nice column for The _Chronicle_," said the girl demurely. "I really can't promise, Fred. Tom Allen would give me ten dollars for it, I am sure." "If you dare!" cried the young man wrathfully. "I'd never hear the end of it. And your mother would never let you out on the water again, you know that, Les," he added threateningly. "That's so," she admitted. "Well, I'll see, Freddy. Cheer up. If I do tell I promise to make you the hero of the adventure." She waved her hand to him laughingly, as Roderick's long strokes sent them skimming away over the darkening water. When they were beyond earshot, she turned to her rescuer.